


Meetings on the Golden Shore

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Ancient Egypt, Ancient History, F/M, Hatshepsut, Historical, Other, Senenmut - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:25:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 37,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary:  Post Daybreak, Bill and Laura are finding the afterlife of "the Shore" lacking. They  take a huge gamble, hoping they'll find the lifetime of love that should have been theirs. "We'll find each other," they promise, as they roll the hard six. They find themselves (or the essence of themselves) reincarnated as a royal daughter of Pharaoh and the son of a scribe. Their spirits look on (with amusement, hope, and some guidance once in a while)  as the two grow into Egypt's most powerful woman and her most stalwart man of the 18th Dynasty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> As any serious student of this period will see, I've taken some liberties with certain historical facts (primarily time frames) and mythology in service to the story. The details are as accurate as possible, based on my hobby of non-academic but passionate research for years.

 

  
  
  
  
Sweat was pouring off his brow and back as he started losing it, one hand gripping the headboard and one clenching the pillow by her head. A defeated groan pushed past his gritted teeth as electric heat spooled up and shot out his body, pleasure and shame fighting in the marrow of his bones.  
  
Soft hums finally became audible over the drumming of his pulse in his ears.  
  
“Gods, Bill, that was….”  
  
“Laura, please…don’t.” He ignored the last shudders racking him, urging him to keep thrusting, to get that last bit of sensation inside her warmth. Rolling off her pliant body, he turned on his back, wiping sweat off his face and covering his eyes.  
  
Long silky auburn hair spilled over her shoulder as she propped herself on one elbow. “I don’t know what you’re acting apologetic for. That was lovely.” Her features were composed in a serene smile.  
  
He could remember when her face would be blotchy and hot, after. She’d have swollen lips from biting back screams. She’d be exhausted, not wanting to move at first, then curling against him, ready for a quick, necessary nap.  
  
He could remember when she’d felt like he did.  
  
Managing a weak smile, he brushed a lock of hair back behind her ear. “I think I had a better time than you.” He turned towards her, sliding a sweat-slicked hand down to her sex. “I can try again.”  
  
“It was fine, Bill. It was good.” She trailed a finger down his smooth tanned chest, past his navel, and toyed with the thick black curls around his half-flaccid length. She cupped him lightly in her hand, like she was holding something fragile.  
  
“I did come, you know. It’s just…different. They said there would be changes.”  
  
He rested one wide hand on her hip, stroking lightly. “Doesn’t seem fair.” He made himself grin. “We should’ve done this a lot more when we had the chance.” He knew the grin didn’t reach his eyes.  
  
“Mmm..I was up for that, I seem to remember. Then somebody had to go all ‘responsible’ on me.” Her tone was teasing, but he could see a hint of regret in her eyes.  
  
“I didn’t know…oh, hell, there’s no excuse. I was an idiot, didn’t see what I had.”  
  
She shook her hair back and sat up, drawing her knees under her chin and clasping her hands together.  
  
“I swear, Bill, if there’s anybody who could keep beating themselves up even after they’re dead, it’s you.”  
  
His eyes opened wide, hope shining in their depths. “Are you getting mad at me?”  
  
Laura cocked her head, as if listening for her feelings. “No, not…exactly. A little annoyed, maybe a touch of…chagrin? Yeah, chagrin.” She stretched and leaned back against the headboard.  
  
“Frak.” He rolled away from her, hand over his eyes again. Even with his eyes closed, he could picture their room.  
  
Their changing, fading room.  
  
It had been opulent at first, rich silks and too many pillows...she had already decorated it by the time he arrived. The posts had been heavily carved with erotic Scorpian figures in infinite pairings that changed every few days. Fine oil artwork had been on every wall, rotating through every piece she’d seen in a lifetime of museums and art galleries. Life-size marble sculptures had depicted lovers at the edge of a cobalt-blue pool fed by a waterfall fountain.  
  
He looked around the room, noting that the last primitive carving had faded on the posts, leaving only the smooth grain of pine for decoration. A lone watercolor…lilies in a pond, maybe…was the last piece of art on the walls. A stone obelisk stood watch over a claw-foot bathtub.  
  
He didn’t want to think about what the next changes would be.  
  
“What does it feel like?” he whispered, watching her brow wrinkle the tiniest bit as she listened to him. He wondered if he sounded the same as he used to.  
  
“It’s not bad, really. Everything’s a little…muffled, like I’m wrapped in cotton or something. Like there’s some kind of cushioning between me and everything else.”  
  
 _Fading._  
  
Something about her was fading. He supposed he was fading, too, but the year’s gap between them kept them both on different timetables.  
  
Everyone had looked so alive at the Shore when he got there. At least a couple of generations back, both sides of his family had been arrayed at the place when the grassy field met the sand that led into the water. It had taken him weeks of adjustment to notice some of his more irascible family members seemed much more pleasant, slower to anger…like all their sharp edges had been weathered away, leaving them smooth and easy to be around.  
  
It had taken months to begin missing their natural abrasiveness, the contention that had been a cherished part of the Adama family experience. Maybe it wouldn’t have shown up as much in some families…probably not in the Roslin family. He smiled at that. Laura’s parents had buffed away their rough edges in life, to hear her tell it. They had been polished by love, though. This felt different. He hadn’t felt it himself, he didn’t think.  
  
But he sensed it in her. Towards what he thought of as his first year this side (although it could have been one year or ten…time seemed to flow differently here) he began noticing his angel was becoming a little  _too_  angelic.  
  
The changes in their surroundings started some time after that.  
  
“So, how do you feel about it?” He rolled onto his stomach, propping his chin and cheek on her thigh as he looked at the even-pored skin in front of his eyes. Had she always been this smooth, her flesh this silky? Or was this another change?  
  
She reached down and wove her fingers into his hair. It was back to the salt-and-heavy-pepper shade it had been when they’d started their long slow fall into love. He didn’t mind that part. He’d not had a mirror around in his last days, but he could tell from the hairs left on his rough pillow that he’d gone completely white. He would have hated to have shown up like that.  
  
“I wish things were different.” Her tone was mild, almost uninterested, like she wished there was chocolate instead of strawberry cake for dessert. There was a preference, perhaps, but nothing to get excited about, one way or another.  
  
“Look at me, Laura.”  
  
He moved up on the bed until he could look into her sea-green eyes. He used to be able to see storms in there, and depths that sparkled and glowed. He’d been the subject of a few glares that had turned her pupils almost black with anger, and for a second, he wished she’d look at him like that again, just to see a change in the calm, placid green. He was close enough to breathe in her scent, sweet-salty and with a faint note of something tart in the background. It was the scent she had after they’d spent extra time dozing in the aftermath of body-rocking lovemaking.  
  
The stronger notes had faded along with everything else. He supposed the day would come when their frakking would leave them smelling of cotton candy, if they felt inspired to frak at all.  
  
“I think I want to talk to the Elders about going back.”  
  
It was a relief to finally say it. To put the reincarnation option right out there. Once, they had argued about it. No guarantee that they’d be together, no memories (that anyone knew of, anyway), no idea what they’d be born into or how they’d live.  
  
But they’d be alive again. Their senses would be taking in every touch, every taste, every sound, sharp and clear. Of course, as she had pointed out once, that might include things better left to the imagination or happily forgotten.  
  
He turned on his back and ran his fingers down his smooth chest. Getting shot at point blank range, healing from open-heart surgery…he wasn’t excited about going through those sensations again.  
  
But to feel, really feel her lips again, her breath on his cheek, the full effects of her tightness grabbing, pulsing around his cock...to see her lose her mind at the sensations his tongue drew from her trembling clit…he’d go through a lot to let them experience a lifetime of those feelings. To let them both go through that maddening wanting, yearning for each other when apart, the bursting-heart feelings when they came together again. He was greedy, he knew, but having had too scant a taste of her in life, he ached for more.  
  
“You’re sure? Really sure, with all the risks?” she asked.  
  
Her gentle curious interest was killing him. Her faint wrinkles around her eyes, the ones that made her look like herself, hadn’t faded, and they deepened as she smiled with an overly tranquil smile.  
  
He cupped her face briefly before resting his head on her breasts, still high and firm, with no hint of the death the left one had once carried. He knew what he was asking her to give up. She’d had so much terror, so much pain in life. He felt a surge of guilt at what he was asking, and loathed his selfishness that drove him to drag her back with him onto the human plane.  
  
He watched the one tear he could muster over his actions trickle down onto her nipple and bead up before rolling down the side of her breast, leaving a shimmering track. He reached out and lapped at the dampness, caressing her flesh with the point of his tongue before answering.  
  
“Yeah, I’m sure. I can’t explain it, but”—he broke off to give her a kiss that he had intended to be quick but turned more thorough than he had planned—“I have faith, I guess, that we’ll find each other, know each other, no matter what.”  
  
Her belly twitched as she gave a subdued laugh. “If Bill Adama feels so strongly about this to talk about faith, I guess there must be something to it.”  
  
He smiled sadly. He could still remember when she could laugh at the silliest things hard enough to shake his head off her body, then double over trying to get herself under control, tears running from her eyes as she gasped that she really was trying to stop.  
  
“It’s fine, Bill. We can talk to the Elders tomorrow.” Her eyes still shone with love when she looked at him, but it was like a huge column candle had been replaced with a birthday taper. He kissed her again and pulled up the plain cotton sheet that was starting to feel a bit threadbare.  
  
  


****************************

  
  
He wasn’t sure what color the robes were that the Elders wore. They seemed to shift through a pastel rainbow of soft tones, almost too subtle to notice. There were few distinctions between male and female, as if gender was one more characteristic subject to erosion.  
  
“We can provide some guidance, but there are no guarantees, you understand. And it may take you a lifetime to find each other.” A fleeting twinkle flashed in the Elder’s eyes. “Although I understand you’re familiar with that course.”  
  
“Will we know each other? How does that work?” Laura asked. They sat in front of one of the Elders, side by side on a white-painted bench in a modest garden. Laura’s fingers turned a white-petaled flower over and over in her lap as she loosely held Bill’s hand with her other.  
  
“Not so different as the last time. Something will nudge you towards each other when the time is right. Your spirits will recognize each other, and hopefully, your conscious minds will accept what your hearts already know.”  
  
“Hopefully?” Bill’s voice squeaked mid-word. The idea that they could be alive, walking the Earth at the same time, and miss each other was unbearable.  
  
“If it helps, William, a great many souls here will be hoping on your behalf.” The Elder nodded towards a few members of the Roslin and the Adama families strolling the gardens at a respectful distance.  
  
A week later, Laura Roslin and William Adama walked into the distance, away from their tiny log cabin and up a sloping hill outside of town, until their figures were swallowed by the wavering clouds scudding along the crest. Those who had been watching later reported seeing a split-second flash of golden light, and when it faded, so had they.  
  
  


***********************************

  
  
  
  
She opened her eyes to shimmering gold light everywhere, sunlight reflecting off hammered gold collars and bracelets. Almond-shaped eyes lined in black filled her field of vision as a soft voice whispered words she didn’t yet understand.  
  
 _My daughter. Child of the Gods. God’s Wife._  
  
The gentle heat of a sun-warmed gold circlet felt soothing on her brow, and soft linens were swaddled snuggly around her. Witnesses to her birth whispered that the tiny royal daughter’s eyes seemed to search the room, looking for something that she couldn’t find.  
  
Her wet-nurse would secretly call her by her own daughter’s name, missing her child who had died of fever that summer, shortening “Layla” to a sing-song nonsense word… _La’ra._  
  
Others called her “Hatshepsut.” Later, she would give the world names of her own choosing. She would be called “Lady of the Two Lands” by some, and would be called “Pharaoh” by all.  
  
  
  
  


****************************************

  
  
  
He opened his eyes to shimmering gold light everywhere. Sunlight poured into the simple mud and limestone house, shining off the sands that disappeared into the distance. A scribe’s wife whispered words of welcome to her sturdy olive-skinned baby, already frowning impatiently as she brought him to breast. A man’s voice laughingly teased the woman holding the newborn child.  
  
 _You’ve given me a little bull, my love. He’ll lead others to create great things._  
  
His first toys would be models of boats and temples. He would craft a miniature house from scrap stone and leftover mortar for his sister’s dolls.  
  
He would be the first of his family to attend the school within the great city, impressing his teachers with his rendition of the heavens, all the stars in their places. His broad hands would use hammer and stone to meld the earth and sky together in imaginative model temples.  
  
He was named “Senenmut” by his parents. The day would come when Pharaoh would give him other names:  
  
 _Royal Architect.  
  
Steward to God’s Wife._  
  
And the most cherished name of all… _Beloved._  
  
  
  
                                                                               ***********************  
  
  
  
Sweat was beginning to trickle down the back of her neck under her heavy black wig and ceremonial striped headcloth. She thought again about having her head shaved as most of the royal ladies of the court did. She glanced around the chamber without moving her head, hiding a prickle of resentment at the others’ apparent comfort under their neat swaths of tiny braids. There was something about that contemplation, though, thinking of razors skimming over her scalp and the hair of others resting against her skin that gave her deep feelings of unease, bordering on quiet dread.  
  
Her dark brown-black hair, touched with glints of red, would be soaked by day’s end, springing into barbaric curls as it dried after the day’s wig was removed and placed on its stand. The weighty jeweled collar would come off, the gilded flail and crooked scepter would be put away, and she could have a few hours as a woman before the demands of the next day began.  
  
Now, though, her work was before her, and the stacked scrolls of plans and proposals were beginning to run together. She figured she had about one more interview in her before she cleared the throne room and sent for a cup of iced sherbet and a plate of fruit and almonds. Thank Ra, there was no banquet tonight.  
  
She thought longingly of a cool stroll in the gardens after the heat of the day had diminished, as she waved away the fat sweating architect kneeling in front of her. He was trembling as he rolled up his offered plans for a temple to her father’s memory. Tired and trite, the design was no different from the last fifty she’d seen.  
  
“One more, Chamberlain,” she murmured to the jeweled noble to the right of her throne. “I feel as though I’ve seen the exact same designs presented by a dozen different men today. Original thought seems to have passed by the architectural classes entirely.”  
  
The chamberlain smiled thinly. “As Pharaoh wishes. This last one is not known to me and I cannot say I’ve seen his works, but your father’s chief architect mentioned him before he went to dwell in the land of the dead.” He pursed his lips. “Promising…not of high birth, but a good eye and a quick mind.”  
  
Hatshepsut raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “And you’ve saved him for last, while the higher-born dolts show me their scribbling?”  
  
He inclined his head, then made a deeper bow at the waist. “Protocol, your Majesty, dictated it be so.”  
  
She wondered if there was a way to throw “Protocol” to the royal crocodiles. If any human had caused her as much discomfort as “protocol” they would have been dead a thousand times over.  
  
“Bring me this unknown with a ‘good eye’ and let’s get this over with.” She straightened her back against the gilded throne, feeling her linen dress stick to her skin as she moved. Her jade-green eyes scanned the crowd for the subject of her last audience. Falling on the man walking with almost unseemly confidence down the mosaic tiles to her dais, her eyes widened.  
  
 _Good eyes, indeed._  
  
Under an ebony wig and a wide bronzed brow were the bluest eyes she had ever seen.  
  
And for a moment, before he cast his eyes down, as he surely had been told to before entering the throne room, he had looked at her as if he could see her  _ba_ , as if she had no secrets within her soul that were unknown to him. A shiver ran through her. She was turning to her chamberlain to have the disrespectful oaf removed, then changed her mind when she caught a glimpse of those eyes again.  
  
Not the blue of newborns, or of the occasional barbarian of the far North…this was the shade of the day’s sky turning into night. The shade of the hour when Ra’s chariot is almost at the end of his journey and Nuit stands ready to swallow him whole.  
  
The man before her stood in a formal posture, almost military in his bearing, before kneeling with surprising grace. His features were as craggy as unpolished stone fresh-cut from the quarry. Definitely not the product of generations of the highborn…his shoulders were too broad, his chest too deep, his arms too corded with muscle. The hands holding a set of scrolls were blunt-fingered and strong, and her right palm twitched as if part of her wondered what they would feel like against her skin.  
  
Lady?” the chamberlain prompted.  
  
She blinked. “I’ve become a bit light-headed. Send for my midday meal, Chamberlain. And ask this one his name.”  
  
Before the chamberlain could open his mouth, the man in front of her raised his head and met her eyes with a disconcerting boldness. “I am called Senenmut, your Majesty. I am your architect.”  
  
 _His words are as bold as his eyes._  She spoke with false coolness. “That is far from determined, Senenmut. What do you have for me?”  
  
He handed the first scroll to the chamberlain, who fixed him with a disapproving glare before handing the papyrus to Hatshepsut, unrolling it as he handed her the ends.  
  
Ten minutes later, the chamberlain gave the order for the throne room to be cleared and a study table and two chairs to be brought in. Hatshepsut, Pharaoh, Lady of the Two Lands, and God’s Wife…had seen something she liked in the scrolls.  
  
And something she liked very much in the man who had brought them.  
  
  
  
  


********************************

  
  
  
  
Two _kas,_  floating on their own hazy plane, shared a frisson of amusement as they watched.  
  
“Oh my Gods, they don’t know what’s hit them, do they?”  
  
“Hey!  _He’_ s fine…she’s the one getting all flustered and distracted.”  
  
“Well, _that’s_  different. I was cool as a cucumber they day we met. You were the one having a hissy fit because I mentioned networking.”  
  
“I was not having a ‘hissy fit.’ I was explaining why you couldn’t have things your way.”  
  
“Good thing  _Galactica_  didn’t have any crocodiles handy.” A faint giggle floated to the ceiling.  
  
“You think I might have over-steered on the confidence attribute? I don’t want him to get thrown out on his ear before they even get to know each other.”  
  
Laura’s  _ka_  gave a contemplative hum. “No…I don’t think so. She’s very intrigued, although she can’t show it. Not just yet. But she didn’t want to meet privately with anyone else to look at sketches.”  
  
Their spirits touched, their essences flickering against each other.  
  
“I’m glad we decided to do this.” Even as an immaterial  _ka_ , his voice (or what she perceived as his voice) still held a husky timber that she loved.  
  
“So am I…although I could have done without that disturbing marriage to her half-brother.” Her  _ka_  seemed to shudder for a second.  
  
His tone turned sympathetic. “The Elders said there were bound to be parts we didn’t like. And it gave us a few years to get to see Earth.”  
  
“I still knew what she was feeling, though, as soon as we got back. Good thing she conceived so quickly—a little Thutmose II goes a long way, as far as I’m concerned. I think I was as happy as she was when he took up with his concubine. And that poppy tincture for childbirth…that was a relief.”  
  
“We could have gone somewhere else, Laura. That northern region, where it snows most of the time, the rain forests to the west…”  
  
“No, I wanted to be around for the birth. I never got to do that in life.”  
  
She felt a ghost of a kiss against what would have been her hand, if she still had a physical form.  
  
“I liked seeing you with a baby.”  
  
“I liked that part, too.” Her  _ka_  made a satisfied hum. “What about you? Favorite parts so far?”  
  
“I liked the studying, believe it or not. The principles and physics of design…I enjoyed that. It’s amazing what they’re able to do with no machinery. And the astronomy, the star maps…” he trailed off, lost in thought.  
  
“Was that you, Bill? Did you put that in Senenmut’s mind?”  
  
His _ka_  seemed to pulse in rhythm to what would have been his heartbeat in life. “I’m not sure. The self-confidence was just a guess, actually. I still don’t know how much input I have into his…inner being, soul, or whatever.”  
  
“Oh, Bill…even non-corporeal, I can tell you just rolled your eyes.”  
  
“Well, I’m still not completely used to it, even after thirty years. What about you? Do you think you’re doing a lot of guiding?”  
  
“I’m not sure…maybe some. You have to admit she’s a great administrator. Even her father thought she would be. He could have named a male relative as successor, but he picked her.”  
  
“Oh, I agree. But she’s got a huge standing army that’s getting bored, with generals who don’t have enough to do. Maybe you could nudge her to do something about that.”  
  
“Hmm…maybe I will. Oh, look at that! Their arms are practically touching. They look like they’ve both forgotten rank and position.” Her  _ka_ seemed to shimmer. “I think they’re adorable.”  
  
“Yeah. Wonder how long it’ll take for them to start frakking.” A deep chuckle seemed to roll in the mist.  
  
“Oh, Bill. You never change, do you?”  
  
“When it comes to you, in whatever incarnation you might have? No. And I never will.”  
  
The two shades fluttered together, as if stirred by an unseen breeze.  
  
  
  
TBC  
  
  
A/N: I've taken a few liberties with Hatshepsut and Senenmut's histories, and that of their families, (which takes place in the 18th Dynasty, New Kingdom, Egypt) for the sake of the story.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hatshepsut and Senenmut confide their growing attraction for reach other to their servants, each wondering if the other is out of reach. Bill and Laura provide guidance and sweet dreams to their corporeal selves as they keep nudging, occasionally upsetting their own delicate balance with each other.

The seasons of Inundation, Emergence, and Harvest had come and gone, each in its turn. A year passed as easily these days as a season had in her youth. Such was the way of growing old, she supposed.

Mandisa gently glided the ebony comb through Hatshepsut's dark curls, touching the strands with iris-scented almond oil as she worked. The queen’s locks would never be waterfall-straight like her mother’s, but Mandisa had always secretly thought that the soft curls were more perfectly suited to her delicate features.

The old woman bit her lip and mentally drew a line through “queen” as she corrected herself. Her nursery charge was “Pharaoh." Mandisa knew she’d be long in her tomb before Egypt had a queen again. And thank the Gods for it…no one she knew had lost a son or husband to war since Hatshepsut took the throne.

Her fingers ached as she began weaving the thick curls to fall in one heavy braid over the royal right shoulder. She could see jade-green eyes watching her in the bronze mirror. The painted black eyebrows drew together and slim, elegant fingers reached up to touch hers.

“Do they pain you tonight, Mandisa?”

“Not so much, Lady. No more than yesterday, or the day before.” She worked another swath of hair into the braid.

“I’ve told you a hundred times that you can find a younger attendant to do this. You’ve served me all my life, Old Mother. You’ve earned your ease.”

Mandisa’s heart swelled with affection for her milk-daughter. She might be the most powerful person in Egypt, perhaps the world, but one look in her La’ra’s unusual green eyes and the old nurse felt the years slip away. She smiled as she remembered the young royal infant with hair curly as a new lamb’s coat who had eased the loss of her birth-daughter. Her own skin had been smooth then, not wrinkled as an old quince, and her eyes had been jet black, free of the grey cataract that was beginning to cover the left one.

“I’ve earned a place in your tomb, Lady La’ra, as I’d not leave your side in this life, or the next.” She tugged lightly on the thick braid, teasing. “And there’s not any one of the young ones I’d trust to do this as well as I do.”

“At least tell me you’re taking the tincture of willow to ease the swelling.”

“Every morning, Lady. See the strength that returns.” She began the deep massage of Hatshepsut’s neck and shoulders that her charge loved so much, taking out the pain that set in after a long day in court, the Double Crowns of Upper and Lower Egypt weighty on her head.

She glanced again at the mirror. Hatshepsut had a faraway look in her eyes, and her mouth had turned down at the corners.

“Now, if a strong young man were to offer to ease my Lady’s aches”—she punctuated her remark with another light tug—“I could be persuaded to seek my couch earlier and rest my old bones.”

“I’ve not had much ease at the hands of men, Mandisa. As you would know.”

The old woman hissed between her front teeth. “Not one such as your accursed husband, may his ka wander forever, may his tomb—“

“Mandisa, that’s enough. He’s not without supporters, even in death. Nor is his son.”

Both women sighed at the same time. Hatshepsut would never be allowed to marry again without tearing Egypt apart, her factions warring with those of young Thutmose III. Only the Gods knew for sure where a new husband might place his backing. And most of the nobles and courtiers dawdling in the throne room were overgrown children anyway, not worth a bucket of mare’s piss.

Except the architect.

Mandisa dug her thumbs into the trigger points over the royal shoulder blades and was rewarded with a hum of relief. “No more talk of husbands, then. What of the architect, Senenmut? How goes your building with him?”

The muscles relaxed under her hands, telling her that her milk-daughter had found something easy and healing about the sturdy blue-eyed bull of a man.

“It goes well...construction has started on the monument to my father, and he has begun designs of a library to be built alongside it. He has ideas for my tomb as well, more ambitious, more unique than any I’ve been shown.” She turned around on her carved cedar bench to face her old nurse. 

“I tell you, Mandisa, and this is for your ears only.” She smiled, and years of worry and ruling fell away from her face. “I have only to think of a design, an image…barely see its lines in my mind’s eye, and it’s as if my thoughts guide his pen across the papyrus. It’s like…it’s like our minds speak and plan together while we, mute, still look for the words.”

Mandisa pushed down the wide linen straps forming the top of the pleated dress and began working the tension out of the caps of Hatshepsut’s shoulders.

“A mind-reader, is this Senenmut, then? I didn’t give him enough credit…I thought his talents were in mortar and stone, and in the fine figure he shows.” She gave a raspy hum. “I always did enjoy a man with a sturdy build and finely shaped legs, a good breadth of shoulders and chest, and a waist not overly tapered…”

“Old Mother, just how closely do you watch my architect?”

Not as closely as I watch you watch him, daughter of my heart.

“Am I wrong, Lady, or are my words true?” Her impertinent question was rewarded with a soft chuckle. It was good to hear Hatshepsut laugh. She was too young, even now, to be as somber as she’d become.

“They’re true enough.” She sighed. “I’ve heard others mock the roughness of his features, the scarring on his cheeks, but then I see his eyes…”

Mandisa nodded. The architect had frighteningly beautiful eyes, of a blue so deep as to suggest sorcery, although only one person had been foolish enough to say so in Pharaoh’s hearing. His body had hung from the city walls long enough to quell any other such speculations.

“You are Pharaoh, my sweet La’ra. What keeps you from sending for him? I can tell he fills your thoughts.” 

And he didn’t seem suicidal, to refuse her even if he didn’t find her well-favored, which seemed unlikely.

The Lady had more years than some flighty court beauties, true, but she had a regal elegance and a charming smile. Her hips were still in perfect proportion to her waist, and her breasts didn’t yet need banding to keep them firm and high.

The old nurse imagined what a child from Senenmut’s seed and her charge’s womb would look like: black wavy hair, eyes the color of turquoise...her arms ached in knowing she’d never hold such a treasure. Hatshepsut’s courses had begun slowing down, the folded linen napkins resting unused in their basket for two and three months at a time.

“I am Pharaoh, Mandisa, as you say. Should I send for a lover like a wife with no hearth sends for bread from the bakery?” She looked at her old nurse with resigned eyes under smudged lines of kohl.

Mandisa dipped a linen square into a carved quartz vessel of rosewater and began gently removing the black cosmetic. “No, Lady…send him a sign, a token that tells him you find him more than someone to build your tomb and your city. It’s common enough for Pharaoh to make gifts to those who serve him well. No one will think it strange.”

Hatshepsut nodded thoughtfully. “A token…and perhaps a title. He’s earned it, I think.” Her voice lowered. "He…he advises me sometimes, whispers guidance about politics and the military when we’re bent over the reading table and the others can’t hear. He makes a great deal of sense in these times.”

The old woman began long sweeping strokes along Hatshepsut’s arms and back, rubbing the scented oil into her skin. She was gratified to see the royal hand stifle a delicate yawn. 

“Why not send for the court jeweler in the morning, Lady? Perhaps Isis Herself will come to you in your dreams and show you the perfect design to convey your feelings to Senenmut.”

Hatshepsut rose from her dressing table and crossed the cool tiled floor to her sleeping couch. She nodded at Mandisa to fetch the dressing-woman, who came in bowing, her hand to her shoulder in respect. She carefully untied the embroidered sash and unfastened the heavy linen dress, whisking it away to the second dressing-woman waiting outside the royal bedchamber. A third woman entered the room with a fresh night-shift, woven from cotton spun thin as a spider’s web. She handed the garment to the royal dresser before backing out of the room.

Hatshepsut stood by the couch, arms raised as the cotton gown was placed over her head and drifted down, covering her body. The last dressing-woman waited until the hem reached the floor, then followed the others out.

“Go to your own couch, Old Mother. The Gods give you a quiet night and take the ache from your bones. If my dreams are willing, perhaps I’ll have reason to call the court jeweler in the morning, as you suggested.”

“As my Lady says.” Mandisa gave her as much of a bow as her back now permitted, hand to shoulder as she left the room. Pausing in the doorway, she took a last look at her milk-daughter, lying straight and still under a crisp linen sheet. With any luck, the night would soon come when that sturdy blue-eyed man would share Pharaoh’s couch, and Hatshepsut could have a taste of joy before she journeyed to the land of the dead.

 

******************************

 

“She looks exhausted,” the glowing ka fretted.

“She’s got a hard job, Laura. You remember how it was, juggling the Quorum and…”

“And the military?” she teased.

“Hey, I wasn’t that hard to deal with, was I?”

“Not after Kobol. At least you stopped trying to throw me in the brig.”

“If you hadn’t sent Kara off on a—“

“Shh! We’re disturbing her sleep.”

The two non-corporeal forms watched the Lady of the Two Lands toss restlessly on her sleeping couch, a frown twisting her lips.

“Mandisa reminds me of Billy, in a way. So understanding…she knows Hatshepsut so well.”

She could feel him nodding. “She feels about you—her, like her own child. She’s probably the only mother she—you, however you want to say it, remember.”

“She sure thinks it’s time they share a rack.”

“Well, they’ve known each other for a year now. What’re you waiting for?”

She sniffed. “It’s not that easy. She’s afraid he’ll only be with her because he feels he doesn’t have a choice.”

“Well, maybe she shouldn’t have hung people from the city walls when they made her mad. A woman gets a reputation doing stuff like that, Madam Airlock.”

“Oh, hush, Bill. Help me think of something she can have made for him that’ll send the right message.”

“I guess Admiral’s wings wouldn’t have much meaning here.”

“No…they sure did the trick in our time, though.”

“Laura Roslin! Was that a—a ploy?”

“Hardly. I was at death’s door, remember?”

Gray and lavender-tinted kas melded together into a pale purple union.

“I remember. That was the best kiss I’d had in a long time.”

The light shimmered for a second.

“Same goes for me, Bill.” The light pulsed a few times. “Now help me think of a good dream to give her.”

“Okay, but tomorrow, we need to work on giving Senenmut a dream or two.”

“Oh, it’ll be my pleasure,” and her ka gave the closest thing to a wink it could manage.

 

***************************************************

 

The moon was full, casting its pale light onto the sleeping couch and illuminating the working of Senenmut’s hand.

If asked, he would have denied seeking out the iris-perfumed oil she favored for any other reason than a wish not to offend Pharaoh with a disharmonious scent.

In reality, when his fist traveled the length of his cock, slow, then rushing towards his release, the sweet floral fragrance that slicked his palm brought her to his mind. At the moment of release, he could breathe deep and see her, feel her, imagine it was her sheath that was gripping him…and the moment of bliss would be all the sweeter.

In his dream this night, she was pale as milk, skin translucent and glowing, free of adornment save for a butterfly-painted headcloth wrapped close to her skull. He had slipped it off her shaven head, covering her scalp with gentle kisses lighter that the insects’ fluttering wings. She had hummed with approval as he kissed lower, to her neck, her shoulders, her delicate breasts…

His thumb rubbed over his cockhead as he focused on the woman of his dreams, barely aware of the dream’s setting: shelves and stacks of things he somehow knew were scrolls in an unfamiliar form, candles flickering, now casting their light over her smooth belly and naked mound. His hips began thrusting up towards his fist as he imagined his tongue starting its journey over her folds, seeking her center.

His semen spurted wildly before cascading over his hand and thighs, his hoarse shout of completion cut short as his bedchamber door opened and he heard his servant’s amused query.

“Master Senenmut, are you in need of assistance? I thought I heard you cry out.”

“Gods damn you, Nuru! Close the door.” Senenmut jerked the sheet over his groin and fell back, legs still shaking.

“As you wish, but let me bring a cloth and water first, and a clean covering, lest you wake to an uncomfortable state in the morning."

He could see the wry quirk in the court servant’s lips even in the dim light. Of all the many adjustments he had found himself making after coming to court, getting used to the constant presence of servants had been one of the hardest to make. There had been more privacy in his parents’ house, even with a sleeping room crowded with his brother and sisters. At least no one commented if any noticed him seeking relief in the night.

He sighed, holding the damp sheet away from his body. “Be quick then, Nuru. I’d seek more sleep before the day begins.”

He would have asked that his servant be silent as well as quick, but he knew that would be a lost cause. The young body-servant had a courtier’s ways with others that made him a logical choice to be assigned to newcomers to the royal palace. Unfortunately, part of those ways was the ability to converse sociably on a wide array of subjects, which Senenmut was finding decidedly unnerving at the moment.

He listened to Nuru’s hushed footsteps around the tiled floor as he gathered a bronze ewer and bowl from the washstand and set them by the couch. He added a basket of linen cloths as well, then lit the small oil lamp at the bedside table. As the servant made to pull back the sheet, Senenmut held his wrist.

“I can do this myself, Nuru. Bring me another sheet, and take your time, all right? I’d like some privacy.”

“Very well, but it seems you’re already enjoying more privacy than is healthy.”

Senenmut felt a flush creep up his neck. Bad enough he’d been caught with his hand on his cock like a schoolboy, but to have it turned into a discussion was a discomfort he’d never even contemplated when agreeing to live at court.

“You have but to say the word, Master Senenmut, and I can provide any number of lissome young women to share your couch…or supple young men, if that’s where your favor lies.”

The young man’s deep brown eyes lost their earlier amusement and he turned so his face was shadowed by the black waves of hair that fell to his shoulders. He knelt to pour an inch of water into the washbowl and after setting the ewer back, cautiously placed his fingers on Senenmut’s calf. 

“Or if one simply needs a hand other than his own to help settle after a particularly luscious dream….”

“Your commitment to my comfort is admirable, Nuru.” Senenmut moved his calf away, slowly enough, he hoped, to avoid giving offense, quickly enough to be clear. “None of these remedies interest me.”

He heard a faint sigh, quickly silenced. “You know yourself best, Favored Guest.” Nuru handed him the damp cloth, standing and turning towards the chest that held a dozen clean sheets and spoke over his shoulder. 

“I confess some curiosity as to what does interest you, unseemly though it may be, as I’ve attended you at your bath often enough to note that the architect Senenmut is no eunuch.”

Senenmut groaned inwardly. A year’s worth of experience in the royal court, six months of living within the royal palace (her palace) and he still wasn’t sure of the proper boundaries between the palace servants and guests like himself. 

He wasn’t even sure if “guest” was still the right name for what he was. He had closed up his rooms in the artisans’ section of Thebes months ago, and supposed he should accept that this was his home, as long as it pleased Pharaoh.

As long as she wanted him near.

“You’re a devoted servant, Nuru, but your eyes aren’t the ones I’d have regard me at my bath, or other times.”

The servant bundled up the stained sheet along with the washcloth, leaving Senenmut exposed for an uncomfortable second before he settled the fresh linens on the couch.

“Sea-green eyes can’t regard your rugged charms, Master Senenmut, if you do nothing but place plans and drawings in front of them, day after day. Even the eyes of God’s Wife tire of the same sights.”

Oh, Gods, had he been that obvious? If even the servants knew that he longed for Hatshepsut like a love-sick pup…did everyone know? His heart sank as the bigger question dawned on him: did she know? Had she seen an unguarded look, a smile too warm as they talked?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have a job to do for Pharaoh and I do it to the best of my ability. Don’t make something out of it that isn’t even possible.”

Nuru snuffed out the lamp’s flame with a quick pinch of his fingers. “It is said that the Lady of the Two Lands has become intrigued with the color of lapis lazuli, especially enjoying such stones in a setting of bronze. It is said that she finds the contrast between deep blue and olive particularly pleasing.” The servant moved to the door.

“An afternoon excursion on the river, as the day cools into twilight, is an appealing way to end a long day of city planning, is it not? And if a trinket, a bracelet, perhaps, well within an architect’s budget, were to be presented…and if said trinket combined the Lady’s new favorite materials….”

As he pulled the door closed, Senenmut could swear he saw that amused half-smile again. He touched the lamp’s wick to make sure it was fully extinguished, then turned over, away from the incessant shining moon. He mapped out the route to the jewelers’ section of the city in his head as he waited for sleep to come.

 

***********************************

 

“What’s wrong? You’re upset.”

“Nothing. Leave me alone.”

“Laura…”

The lavender ka flashed red for an instant. “You could have given him any dream you wanted, and you picked one with me dying, and bald, and…that’s not how I want him to see me. Why didn’t I at least still have my frakking hair?”

“You said he needed to have some really hot dreams, something that would push him to a little more initiative.”

“I know, but—“

“And that time, with you in my rack, after you stopped your treatments…that was a really hot memory for me.”

The red faded to a light pink.

“Really? Because I remember other times….”

“You were so precious then, Laura. So beautiful, but with the signs that our time was getting short. It was perfect and sad and wonderful at the same time.”

The grey ka glowed, silvery and molten.

“It’s your incarnation, Bill. If you think that’s the way to go….”

“Weren’t you paying attention? Dreaming of you like that was driving him out of his mind, poor guy.”

A faint giggle came that only they could hear. “So I noticed. Poor guy? Poor servant!”

“I bet he’s seen a lot worse. C’mon, let’s see if you can get in a dream for her about fooling around on a riverboat before she wakes up.”

“Maybe lying down, snuggling, looking at the stars…sandbags for pillows?” The glow was now a soft hazy rose.

The grey shade flickered in time to an old pilot's song.

“Sounds perfect.”

 

TBC


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Three: Gifts large and small are considered, and each has its own implications
> 
> _"She casts the noose on me with her hair, She captures me with her eye; She curbs me with her necklace, She brands me with her seal ring."_

 

 

 

 

 

The sun was already starting to shine through the open window when Senenmut opened his eyes again. The yeasty scent of fresh baked bread and the sour, tangy smell of weak beer told him Nuru had come and gone with his breakfast without waking him. Just as well. They had seen enough of each other in the small hours of the night.  
  
  
He yawned and rose, grabbing yesterday’s kilt that he’d placed on the chest at the foot of his bed. He wrapped it loosely around his waist and sat on the low stool by his table. A small, puffy loaf of bread, luxuriously free from stone mill grit, lay at the side of his plate, steam still rising from it. A few chunks of watermelon, a delicate glass dish of honey, and another dish, of olives, plump and oily, completed his meal.  
  
  
A year ago, he would have been devouring a bowl of lentils and boiled wheat, then wrapping a lump of cheese, coarse grey bread, and a few dates to keep for his mid-day meal, not wanting to leave the worksite for a proper lunch of fish and vegetables. There was a lot to be said for court life, even if it brought the ache of seeing daily that which he couldn’t have.  
  
  
Unless, of course, he  _could...._  
  
  
He let the designs he had thought of in the night play through his mind as he chewed, swallowing the last bite as Nuru came in.  
  
  
“I have your ablutions ready, Master Senenmut. Have you finished eating?”  
  
  
He stood up. “I have.” He ran his hand over his morning stubble. “Is your blade freshly sharpened, Nuru? I mean to speak with Pharaoh today about an afternoon on the river…I want to make a good appearance.”  
  
  
“Don’t worry, Master. Your cheeks will be as smooth as….” He frowned as he regarded the rough olive skin. “Well, they will be as hairless as when you were a boy. Come.”  
  
  
Senenmut followed his body-servant into the bathing room, laying aside his kilt as he sat on a low reed stool in the center of the limestone floor. Nuru directed two silent servants as they poured soda-softened water over his head and skin, then scrubbed him clean with handfuls of aromatic leaves. He stood and sat as they gestured him to, letting his mind fill with the possibilities of the day as they worked.  
  
  
The washing finished and the water drained out of the slits in the floor, Nuru shooed the others away. He generously applied oil to Senenmut’s face and began the slow, careful shaving with the deadly sharp bronze razor. Another dollop of oil under each arm and the shadow of dark hair disappeared under the carefully wielded blade.  
  
  
“Master Senenmut, I wish you’d reconsider...” Nuru nodded towards the riot of public hair that half-covered the architect’s genitals.  
  
  
“No one other than you and your under-servants see my barbaric half, Nuru. I still find myself uneasy thinking about a blade that close to my manhood.” He smiled. They had this conversation at least twice a week, Nuru complaining that the shame would be his as a sorry body-servant if word got out that his master was hairy as a goat under his kilt, and Senenmut reminding him of how few people were in a position to notice or care.  
  
  
Nuru soon finished, expressionless as he dried the bronze skin, leaving Senenmut refreshed and ready to be dressed for another day at court. The architect grumbled a bit as his servant wound his loincloth around him. Nuru always tied it in such a way to make his rod’s girth thicker than it was already, despite Senenmut’s protestations.  
  
It must have been the unnamed ancestor who gave him his blue eyes, who also passed down excess modesty, along with a distaste for having every hair on his body removed. He stood stiffly to allow the servant to fold the intricate pleats of his ankle-length kilt. Senenmut suspected it took years of practice to get the folds court-worthy, and was glad of Nuru’s expertise.  
  
  
A few thin careful swipes of black kohl around his eyes and he was ready for the day’s braided wig to be set over his close-cropped hair. As he was slipping his arm bracelets on to rest high in the dip of his biceps, he thought again of the night’s considerations.  
  
  
“Can you have a suitable jeweler meet me here at mid-afternoon? I have in mind the design I’d like.”  
  
  
Nuru nodded as he added a few drops of fragrance to the thick black hair. “I know just the craftsman. Flawless work, a good sense of natural design, and as discreet as an unmarked grave.”  
  
  
Senenmut gave him a quizzical glance over his shoulder. “He sounds promising, but why the emphasis on discretion? There’s nothing shameful about having a gift made for our ruler, is there?”  
  
  
Nuru got that look on his face that seemed to beg the gods to bear witness to what he had to put up with.  
  
  
“Master Senenmut, may I speak freely?”  
  
  
 _Like Set Himself could stop you!_  “Of course,” he said out loud.  
  
  
“Gifts to attain royal favor are made of gold, or jewels, or are rare and valuable. If the Lady’s father was still on the throne, you would make him a gift of a fine gold trinket. He would accept it as his due, and toss it into one of a hundred coffers full of similar offerings.”  
  
  
His eyes slid away from Senenmut’s as if he knew he was revealing more knowledge than he should possess.  
  
  
“But,” he continued, “if you give the Lady of the Two Lands something worth little, it will be construed that it is a token rich with meaning that only you and she appreciate. While I spoke in the night of the Lady having a new-found admiration for a particular combination of colors, I neglected to point out that others in court may take such a gift as unseemly.”  
  
  
Senenmut felt an uneasy prickling across the back of his neck, but something told him to hold the course, despite his unease. “Nuru, do you think the Lady herself would take pleasure in my gift?”  
  
  
Nuru knelt to fasten the straps on the fine leather sandals he had chosen for his master this day. The servant was silent for a long moment before he spoke again.  
  
“Master Senenmut, I have served this House longer than I’ve been alive, as I was in my mother’s womb when she was the Old Queen’s handmaiden. My own grandmother suckled Pharaoh at her breast in her last year of bringing milk, and tends her still. Not that we discuss our charges, as we’d both keep our tongues in our heads and out of the royal crocodiles’ dinner bowls.” His smile, nervous at first, began to broaden as he stood.  
  
  
However,” he finished, “if I did not think she would be pleased, I would not have suggested it.”  
  
  
He picked up the flagon of oil on the table. “Now, a final oiling of your chest and shoulders, and you will be as fine a figure as any at court.”  
  
  
Senenmut’s heart beat a little faster. It always did, as he finished his preparations to be in her presence again.  
  
  
“Entertain this…jeweler of discretion if you fetch him before I return.” He entered the high-ceilinged hallway outside his rooms and began traversing the maze of the royal palace.  
  
  
  
  
  
***************************************************  
  
  
  
  
Hatshepsut barely remembered her delicate breakfast of a small bunch of  grapes, two figs, and a few bites of poached fish. She could see the line forming outside the throne room, a layer of spear-armed guards between the petitioners and the inner chamber where she sat on the royal dais. The messenger from her step-son had taken longer than he had any reason to, and then there was the emergency meeting with the head priest of the city. And she still had one task to take care of before the day proper began.  
  
  
“Amenthu, a word, before the business of the day starts.” She beckoned to the vizier of Upper and Lower Egypt.  
  
  
The old man walked stiffly to her dais as she waved away his creaking attempt to kneel.  
  
  
“I am at your service, as always, God’s Wife.”  
  
  
His address rankled a bit. She had put aside as many of the feminine titles as she could after taking her deceased husband-brother’s place as Pharaoh, and had redesigned her seal to reflect that she was beyond gender. The old vizier, though, had served under her father. He had helped her consolidate power, first as Queen and regent of the young child-King, and later as Pharaoh. He should know better, and by rights she should have his assumption of privilege corrected.  
  
  
 _Ah, well, no matter_. She was going to upset his day enough as it was. No need to make it worse.  
  
  
“Amenthu, I wish you to prepare documents to confer a title on one who has served me well recently.”  
  
  
A white shock of an eyebrow went up. “As my Lady wishes. What name shall be entered on the scroll?”  
  
  
“Senenmut, my architect. I wish to name him Lord Senenmut, and settle upon him the rights and responsibilities that accompany a formal place at court. A house of his own, near the City of the Dead, I think, and a small holding by the river.”  
  
  
The old man puffed up like an ancient toad. “Gracious Lady, I must remind you that your charge, Prince Thutmose III, has petitioned for several of his inner council to be given titles, and—"  
  
  
“And I am Pharaoh, and he is not.” She bit her tongue against the impudent “So mine is the victory!” that threatened to burst from her lips.  
  
  
“My Lady, as your vizier, I must remind you that there are consequences for every action, even those of Pharaoh’s.” He moved closer to the throne.  
  
  
She heard with some satisfaction the faint rattle of the lances of her personal guard behind her as they straightened against the chance they were needed.  
  
  
“If you make Senenmut a lord, you will be sending a taunt to the Prince that you can do what he cannot. His supporters will be disgruntled and will place the blame on you. I would ask you to reconsider.”  
  
  
She closed her eyes for a second, and wished the breeze from the fans was stronger against her brow. When she opened them, a flash of blue from the end of the great hall caught her eye. Senenmut was there, waiting to approach. She felt the morning’s tension begin to drain away.  
  
  
“I have reconsidered, Amenthu. I believe you are correct in this matter. It would send the wrong message if I were to give the architect the title of lord at this time.” She let the old man’s victorious smirk grow wide before she spoke again.  
  
  
She prayed she was doing the right thing and not acting solely out of anger. The old vizier’s attempts to stymie her will had pushed her past her own natural sense of caution. She couldn’t deny the trust and faith she had in Senenmut any longer, even if they never went on to a personal relationship. Just seeing him at the end of the great hall was a balm to her spirit.  
  
Time for a leap of faith.  
  
“Prepare documents naming Senenmut Royal Architect and Steward of God’s Wife, settling on him my father’s second winter estate and lands.” She ignored the vizier's shocked sputtering and beckoned the chamberlain to her.  
  
  
“Fetch the court scribe to Vizier Amenthu’s side at once, so that he can begin his latest assignment. And he will be needing red sealing wax and his signet ring, as will I. Clear off that side table so that he can start his task without delay.” Her chamberlain nodded at her words, bowed, and strode to his group of assistants, leaving the vizier standing alone before her.  
  
  
She waved the gawping old man to one side and called to the captain of her personal guard, motioning him to come close so that only he and the vizier could hear her words.  
  
  
“Vizier Amenthu is not to leave this room until he and the scribe finish their work, nor is he to send word to the Prince until all is signed and sealed.”  
  
  
“As my Lady wishes.” The tall, clean-featured man kept his carefully neutral features still as stone, but she thought she could see an appreciative twinkle in his eye. Her personal guard had no patience with mixed loyalties.  
  
  
She turned back to her chamberlain. “I would rest in my inner chamber now, and have an early lunch before the rest of the day’s business.” She stopped herself from chewing on her bottom lip only barely…poor Senenmut had no idea his status had changed twice over in ten minutes. Belatedly she wondered if she should have discussed it with him first.  
  
  
Hatshepsut shook her head to clear it.  _She was Pharaoh._ When did she start feeling like she needed to talk with a man before taking action?  
  
  
 _When you got to know this man_ , whispered a strangely accented voice in her mind.  
  
  
She swept up her pleated robes as she rose. “Have… _Count_  Senenmut join me. We have much to discuss.”  
  
  
Courtiers and guardsmen alike parted as she made her way through the crowd, to the chamber door behind the dais. One set of footsteps, leather sandals on tile, sounded behind her. She could tell without looking it was the blue-eyed architect.

 

 


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Four: Changes are happening faster than either one expected. They both roll their own "hard six" in different ways.
> 
> _"Cause she's so high/ High above me, she's so lovely..."_

 

  
  
The inner chamber was a cool relief after the press and heat of the throne room. She nodded at the two servants stationed within, letting her mind wander for a few quiet moments while her heavy double crown was removed and her regalia taken and put aside. They worked without speaking, and she wished some of her court had a portion of their ability to carry out tasks in silence.  
  
The room was dim, the coolness maintained by the absence of torches and the narrow windows that let in adequate light during the day, keeping the worst of the heat out. Simply furnished with a few low couches, two tables and an assortment of chairs and stools, this was her retreat when the day didn’t permit her to return to her personal chambers until long after nightfall.   
  
The centerpiece of the room was the square pool set deep in the floor; blue-tiled with lotus flowers painted here and there, in no discernible pattern. The random placement reminded her of flowers carelessly tossed by a windstorm and left to form their own design.  
  
 _Not everything has to be done by the efforts of man. There is beauty in letting things be._  
  
The pool reflected her image as she looked down. The water would come to the tops of her breasts, she knew, if she were to go down the carved steps and stand flat on the cool blue bottom. She smiled as the thought about Senenmut joining her, how the water would shimmer around his body, blurring his nakedness as it would hers. Not today…but soon, after a long afternoon in conferences and petitions, she would note his weariness and invite him here to refresh himself with her. She would have the chamber servants float a few fresh blossoms in the pool….  
  
“Lady? You wished to see me?”  
  
Hatshepsut pulled her mind out of her daydreams.  _Oh, yes, architect, I wish to see you…_  
  
His muscles were developed almost to the point of being vulgar, thick arms and defined ridges under his gleaming skin. His kilt was carefully pleated, and she noted with approval that it had been wrapped around him in such a way that hinted at what lay under his loincloth. Nuru had been the perfect choice for his body-servant, as Mandisa had suggested.  
  
She moved away from the pool and seated herself in a low-slung leather chair, gesturing at the stool in front of her.  
  
“I need to tell you of the morning’s business. Before your arrival, your status changed, Senenmut. I had in mind to make you Lord Senenmut, and give you a suitable house in the City of the Dead.”  
  
His ocean-blue eyes clouded with worry as he sat in front of her. “Your Majesty would have me leave the palace, then, and come to court for occasional meetings?”  
  
How interesting that his first thought was not of position or income, but the distance that would have put between them.  _There is something here…and he feels it as well as I do._  She reached out and placed her ring-heavy hand on his knee.  
  
“I take welcome note of your concerns, Senenmut. Let me finish the story of my morning before you question my decisions.” Her lips quirked in a teasing smile that took the threat out of her words.  
  
“I had thought to pursue that course, until Vizier Amenthu angered me and challenged my actions. So, you are not Lord Senenmut…you are  _Count_ Senenmut”—she took a deep breath—“and Steward to God’s Wife. The documents are being drawn as we speak.”  
  
She relished the changes she saw in his face as her words sank in. Decorous court solemnity fled, and his grin was wide, his kohl-lined eyes crinkling with pleasure. She hadn’t spoken of the gifts that came along with the position yet, and she dared hope that he was reacting to the promise of a closer relationship with her.  
  
“Lady, I…you know I’m no courtier, and my speech is plain. Please, imagine an eloquent thanks that is as deep and eternal as the Nile itself.”  
  
She lightly squeezed his knee, then reluctantly let go to settle back in her chair. “You are exactly as eloquent as suits me, architect. I know where to find honey-drenched words if I want them. Your plain speech matches the language of my own private thoughts…another sign that we are well-suited to work together on more than tombs and monuments.”  
  
The cool shadows of the room threw his shoulders into carved relief, and she wondered how it would feel to rest her cheek there, leaning on him and feeling his strength. The column of his neck was already beautiful in its unadorned state, and she almost regretted her decision to make him a fine collar, for the skin it would hide. She considered where she would kiss him first, if it came to that. His neck, under his ear, perhaps. Her lips would feel the pulse of him there, the quickening of it....  
  
Her look shifted back to his face. His eyes were bright as they ran over her body, and she felt a tingle of pleasure…then his eyes met hers.  
  
By the Gods, she could lose herself in those eyes, so oddly colored and so disturbingly familiar.  _I’ve lost myself in those eyes before, in another time, another life._  A quiver ran through her and she looked away. It was time to focus on the matters at hand, not dream of girlish fantasies.  
  
Before she could speak again, she heard the soft rap of her chamberlain at the door.  
  
“You may enter,” she called.   
  
The chamberlain stepped in, scroll in one hand and her sealing box in the other. “The vizier has pressed his seal, Your Majesty. I’ve brought sealing wax and your signet ring. Shall I melt the wax?”  
  
“Not just yet. My steward will review it, as he will all of Pharaoh’s documents.” She turned and winked at Senenmut as her chamberlain looked from Senenmut to the scroll in puzzlement.  
  
“But Lady, until you affix your seal, his position is not official, yet you give him the responsibilities already, and he is to approve his own appointment? I’m not sure…this will be difficult to explain to the court scribe in a way that makes sense.”   
  
Years of bureaucratic structure fought with his wish to be obedient…she could see it in the shaking of his frame.  
  
“Chamberlain, you remember my father, do you not?” She didn’t wait for his answer. “I heard him say, on occasion, that one of the great privileges of rule was to not feel obligated to explain his actions to every man with a question in his eyes. To answer all with 'This is my will.’" She felt the memory of her father come close, and imagined an approving smile.  
  
“Tell the scribe to preface the entry with ‘At Pharaoh’s wishes.’ And tell him he’d be wise to practice that phrase. He’ll have many occasions to use it in the future.”  
  
The nervous chamberlain bowed deeply, acknowledging his dismissal, and left the two alone again.  
  
“You intend, then, to flout court convention on an on-going basis?” Senenmut asked.  
  
This time she was bold enough to take his hand. As Pharaoh, she could have taken his head, if she’d wanted to. As Hatshepsut the woman, she hoped she was reading him correctly and her affections would be welcomed.  
  
“I do, favored architect and Steward to God’s Wife. I do, indeed. Will you support me in my flouting?”  
  
Senenmut lifted her hand to his lips. After a solemn kiss to the back of her right hand, he turned her hand in his, exposing her inner wrist. His steady gaze bore into hers with an intimacy that was almost frightening. Hatshepsut’s cheeks flamed as he touched his warm, full lips to the sensitive skin, almost translucent over her blue veins. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to appear calm as the tip of his tongue touched the inside of her wrist, a quick flick that set her nerves singing.  
  
 _Of the two of us, he tastes my pulse, my skin first. What manner of man have I found here?_  
  
  
****************  
  
  
His tongue registered sweet almond oil with a hint of salt, and he savored her taste as he waited to see if she’d summon her guards. When the room remained quiet save for their breathing, he pressed a last kiss to her wrist and gently placed her hand on the chair’s leather-covered arm.  
  
“I will support you in all that you ask, God’s Wife, to the land of the dead and beyond.”  
  
Her lips parted in a slow smile. “I hope I don’t have to ask that of you anytime soon. I have so much more in mind for you.”  
  
He raised an eyebrow before he could stop himself. Her eyes widened and another light flush came to her cheeks, suddenly seeming bashful at her own words. Her tone turned businesslike.  
  
“I want to go over your thoughts on my tomb again, but first, I’d like to finalize your position. Come to my side and read over the terms and grants with me.”  
  
Senenmut rose and went to kneel at her right, close enough for her iris scent to fill his nostrils. They read the scroll together, her slim forefinger indicating sections of particular importance.   
  
He found his gaze pulled from the words by a single thin lock of dark red hair that had escaped her black wig. The thought of a headful of such hair, loose and streaming over her shoulders, brought him hard under his kilt. He shifted guiltily and read on with her.  
  
“Now, the second winter palace that was my father’s is situated near the river, and besides the main living area, there are four fields, mainly of wheat, and a small orchard with fruit-bearing trees, fig bushes, and a small olive grove.” Her precise, serious words reminded him of an accountant, or one who educated them.  
  
“The fields produce a decent income, which will come to you now, and, of course, will be exempt from taxes now that you are royal steward,” she continued. “Close to the water, there is a dock and boathouse with two fishing boats, a swift travel boat, and a pleasure yacht used for entertaining on the water.”  
  
Senenmut remembered working on the tomb of Thutmose I when he was an apprentice, and could still see the images of his interment, the ceremonies lasting for days.   
  
“Your father, may his  _ka_  enjoy abundance, has been in the land of the dead for more than ten years, Lady. Surely such a property hasn’t remained unattended for all that time?”  
  
She laid the scroll in her lap with a sigh. “No, it hasn’t. He enjoyed the winter palace with his chief concubine, a woman of education and beauty. And kindness, for the child of her predecessor. I remember spending weeks there when I was a girl, going through her library, standing by her and my father as they held parties on the river.”  
  
“And does she no longer live there?”  
  
The shake of her head barely moved the heavy woven braids. “No…she joined my father two summers ago. There is a head butler who serves as estate manager, and workers who have kept the fields tilled and harvested, and the structures in good repair.”  
  
“And the boats? Are they in good repair as well, do you think?” Nuru’s words of the enjoyment of a day spent on the river suddenly seemed prescient.  
  
“I believe so, yes.” She turned towards him and he was struck by how close her lips were to his. “Have you a special interest in fishing, Senenmut?” Her teasing smile was punctuated with a dimple that he found enchanting.  
  
“I had been thinking of the relief from the heat a day on the river would afford, Lady.”  
  
“Hmm…I haven’t done that since before the last Inundation. That does sound pleasant.”   
  
She cocked her head as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Confusion set in. This was the most powerful person in Egypt. Surely if she wanted a day on the Nile or any other thing, she had only to mention her wishes and a hundred nobles would jump to make her happy. He gave her a side glance of his own, and the tenseness in her posture surprised him. Was she waiting for…an  _invitation?_  
  
 _Just open your mouth and ask her. You can only die once if she’s offended._  
  
He frowned at the husky whisper that echoed in his head, then his brow cleared. The whisper had a point.  
  
“Lady, if I may ask for one more favor…” He turned to face her. “You know that I didn’t come from wealth and great estates. My father was a simple scribe—"  
  
“Not so simple, I hear. Not so many scribes prepare civil and criminal pleadings for their local magistrate, as I understand your father did.” Her lips quirked up as she spoke of his father with unsettling confidence.  
  
He drew back, then told himself he shouldn’t be surprised. She literally had an army at her beck and call. Sending someone to his family’s quarter of the city to ask questions would have been easy enough.   
  
“My father believed in building a legacy of words and records.” He gave her a wry smile. “He was less than pleased when I showed more interest in squares and plumb lines than in reeds and ink.”  
  
“I am certainly pleased you chose your course, Steward. Now, you were speaking of your humble beginnings?”  
  
He took a deep breath. “I confess I have little understanding of the functions and running of a large estate. If someone familiar with the palace and lands would consider accompanying me on my first visit….”  
  
His eyes fell on a gaming board that had been pushed to one side on the table next to him. The counting pieces, carved with the faces of cats and birds, seemed to mock his hesitancy. The discarded dice had fallen out of their cup and lay on the board, glowing ivory with ebony dots.  
  
 _Time to roll the hard six._  
  
He could feel the ivory cubes in his hand, imagined giving them a good shake and letting them roll. In his mind’s eye, he saw them come to a stop, three dots, and three dots again.   
  
At least in the game in his head, he’d made the six.  
  
He straightened his shoulders. “What I mean to say, Lady, is that I would invite you to accompany me on my first visit, as I can think of no better way to learn what my new holdings have to offer than to view them by your side.”  
  
She seemed to consider his words thoughtfully. “It’s at least an hour’s ride in a litter, and then another two hours by river, Senenmut. It would make for a long day, with little accomplished in the short time we would be there.”  
  
The smile dancing around her lips gave him hope. He thought of the dice, three and three.  
  
“Then be my first houseguest, Lady, and take two or three days’ rest there, in the place you recall with such fondness. I’m not an experienced host, but I would do everything in my power to make you comfortable.”  
  
He thought his heart would stop as she considered his invitation. The pulse in her throat fluttered like a netted bird, and he would have given all that he had for an inkling of where her thoughts lay.  
  
He watched as she finally inclined her head, her earlier flush coloring her cheeks again.  
  
“I believe I can clear my schedule in a week’s time, to allow for a few days’ recreation. Yes, Senenmut, I accept your invitation. Speak with your servant Nuru about sending a messenger to begin the preparations.”  
  
Her jade-colored eyes bore into his. He saw a flash of hunger there, for only a moment, then it was gone, and Pharaoh was looking at him from eyes that had become placid and slightly aloof.   
  
He thought of the dice again. In less than a fortnight, he would become her lover, or he would become an outcast from court, perhaps a meal for the royal crocodiles. He hoped his luck would continue to hold.  
  
“Attend me, Steward,” she said, more sharply than she had spoken before. “Have you finished reading the document?”  
  
He tried to match the coolness of her tone, wondering if her feelings in the moment had unsettled her so much.   
  
“Yes, Lady. It seems all in order, as far as I can tell.”  
  
She picked up the small box left by the chamberlain. “Light a taper, then, and drip me a good-sized pool of wax for my seal.”  
  
Senenmut took the scroll and rolled it open to the end, holding it flat with an obsidian sculpture of Bastet, the cat’s eyes set with faceted emeralds. He brought the sealing wax to the taper’s flame, letting the red wax flow, drop by drop, onto the royal orders.   
  
He searched his mind for neutral, appreciative words to say. “It’s strange, is it not, Great Lady? A few drops of wax and a press of a signet ring, and so much can change. Lives can change. A scribe’s son is made a nobleman of Pharaoh’s court with this one act.”  
  
Hatshepsut pulled the engraved signet ring from the box, her golden cartouche with its owl, its sun, and ripples of the Nile all cast in high relief. Their foreheads almost touched as she leaned over to make the stamp clear and even. She held the ring in her fingers and pressed it into the wax with a firm hand. The warm wax surrounded the metal, taking on its form as she drew her hand back, leaving the image of her cartouche.  
  
“Not so strange, architect. The act of taking that which is hard and pressing it into that which is soft and yielding…that act has always had the power to change lives, for good or ill.”   
  
She looked at him and the hunger flashed again, before concern took its place. “We would both do well to keep that in mind.”  
  
It was his turn to look away. Whatever came to pass over the next weeks would change his life, and hers as well, he suspected. He thought of the thrown dice again, and a surge of hope filled his breast. Another surge of feeling at her words threatened to tent his kilt as he thought of her, soft and yielding. He was suddenly grateful for the barrier the table provided.  
  
“I’ve a thought to dismiss court today,” she mused, almost to herself. “They will bring the midday meal soon, and I find my pool tempting…”  
  
A light knock sounded. One of Pharaoh’s handmaidens opened the door at Hatshepsut’s response.  
  
“Your Majesty, the court jeweler you sent for—“  
  
Hatshepsut rose from her low-slung chair, seeming a bit flustered. “Yes, yes…have him come in. Count Senenmut and I were just finishing our business.”  
  
At the mention of his new title, the handmaiden gave him a long, slow look from head to toe, then glanced at her ruler before casting her eyes down again. He could tell she was recording this bit of court gossip to share with her fellows before the day was over:  _Title, property, and a lengthy private audience.._.he could already feel his ears start to burn.  
  
Only the Gods knew what the gossip would be when Hatshepsut accompanied him on an excursion of several days. The thought should have been worrisome, but he found himself smiling as he left the inner chamber and made for his rooms after her dismissal. He had an appointment of his own with a jeweler, and a week to design a bracelet fit for Pharaoh.  
  
And if his fortune held, fit to mark the beginning of their love.  
  
  
  
#######################  
  
  
  
  
“Well, I’m disappointed. I wish she had followed through with the pool suggestion. I love the sensations when she’s in the water.”  
  
“I don’t think he could’ve taken it. I had to really push to get him to ask her to his new place.”  
  
“Yes, she’s a bundle of nerves, too.”  
  
The lights of the two  _kas_  flickered together.  
  
“What’s she so nervous about? She can do anything she wants, can’t she?”  
  
“Admiral, are you forgetting what we went through? What was the mutineers’ trump card when I was on the base ship?”  
  
“When they told you they’d executed me?”  
  
The lavender  _ka_  rippled, then stilled. “She has enemies, you know. And if they become an item, hurting him would be a great way to get at her.”  
  
“I’ll work on some increased caution for him, if you’ll work on getting her to stop trying to take care of everything on her own.”  
  
“Deal. And speaking of working on things…that wrist-kissing business—was that you or him?”  
  
The gray  _ka_  shimmered. “You liked that, did you?”  
  
“I was wondering why you never did that to me. It looked like she really, really liked it.”  
  
“There’s a lot we didn’t have time for, Laura. But this helps, doesn’t it? This way of being together again?”  
  
“It helps a lot, Bill. I’d forgotten how strong these feelings can be—the physical feelings. The aching…she gets aroused every time they’re alone together, and all he’s done is kiss her hand.”  
  
“Well, I thought he was going to embarrass himself over that ‘something hard into something soft’ conversation.”  
  
“I think it’s going to be a long week for them.”  
  
The gray and the lavender merged again, a soft glow suffusing the air.  
  
“Gonna be a long week for all of us. Something tells me it’ll be worth waiting for, though.”

 

 


	5. Part Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feelings are worked into metal and gemstones as the week flies by, and Bill & Laura have a decision to make.
> 
>  
> 
> _Pursue thy heart's desire and thine own happiness. Order thy surroundings on earth in such a way, That they may minister to the desire of thy heart_

**********************

The week had passed in a blur. Senenmut’s time was split between work, and meeting with a capable jeweler in the city, one who had apprenticed to the court jeweler as a young artisan. The form of his planned gift for Hatshepsut came together as if he had already seen it in another time and was designing it from memory. He crafted a small box for it with his own hands, glad to see he hadn’t lost his touch with wood and inlays in his time of creating monuments.

The bracelet would clasp her upper arm midway between elbow and shoulder (if she deigned to wear it, he reminded himself).The bronze had been mixed with other metals until it was a close approximation of the tone of his skin. The metal swirled in ripples that would look like the river’s currents against her arm, eddying around the round  cabochon lapis lazuli set at finger-width intervals.

Tiny moonstones had been scattered in the setting, their glowing white color contrasting with the deep blue the jeweler swore was a perfect match to Senenmut's eyes. He himself was a poor judge of how well they matched, not being given to admiring his reflection, but when he looked at the piece resting in its silk-lined box, he thought of being on the Nile at twilight, the first stars beginning to show.

If she had been a merchant’s daughter, or the child of a scribe like him, he would have thought it was a fine gift. As a gift for God’s Wife, the Lady of the Two Lands…he hoped her heart would see it for what it was. He wanted to please her; he wanted to give her something that would remind her of him in his absence.

All week he had spent his days working on finalizing plans for her tomb, his shelf of designs growing larger every day. He would show her the best of these during their days away, where she would have time to reflect on the unusual design away from courtiers stuck in the traditional ways of doing things. He had to laugh at that thought. Social standing didn’t mean an absence of ignorance, and from the disapproving murmurs he caught, he knew that many didn’t understand the design’s significance.

Hatshepsut was learned enough in her own family history, he suspected, that she would see the homage he’d incorporated from her ancestor’s tomb, built five hundred seasons in the past. The old and the new, combined for something greater than the sum of their parts.

Maybe he was as ambitious as the whispers said. But it wasn’t for himself, for his own glory. All glory was hers, as it should be. All he wanted was for the ages to know her for who she was…and if that was ambitious, then, he supposed the whispers were right.

 

**********************

 

“Show me what you have, Nebamun. My day has been long and I have the hope that your offering will be a welcome distraction.” Hatshepsut leaned forward in the gilded chair that served as her throne in her private apartments.

The court jeweler bowed low, then approached her with a wide, slim box in his hands. At her nod, he unfastened the catch.

“Your Majesty, at your request, I considered many factors: the unique coloring of Pharaoh, the grace of the royal brow, the crimson hue of the royal lips—“

“You are not here to flatter, Nebamun. Show me the piece, and then we can discuss Pharaoh’s charms, if we must.” She took some of the sting from her words with a slight softening around her mouth and the curious raise of an eyebrow.

With no further words, the jeweler opened the box. Hatshepsut slowly began to smile as she looked at the glittering collar laying there. Oblong beads of rose gold formed the body of the piece. A glance at her forearm confirmed what she suspected: he had smelted gold and copper together to create a close approximation of her skin tone. It would contrast well with Senenmut’s browner chest and shoulders.

The jeweler ran a scarred finger over the various inlays and stones set into the collar, silently telling the story of the design. Black enamel at the top and down the sides represented her hair, and her eyes crinkled in approval as she picked out the thin inlays of carnelian glowing dark red, scattered between the sections of black as her natural red streaks decorated her dark hair.

Below an expanse of rose gold was another thin inlay of black running from one side to the other, accenting the sea-green jade stones that formed the middle of the piece, just as her eyebrows and kohl set off her eyes. She had spent enough time in front of a mirror to know the stones were a perfect match in color.

More rose gold beads topped the final jeweled row of deep red garnets set in a rippling pattern that suggested the bow and curve of a woman’s lips. Large rectangles of gold finished the piece, a visual anchor that suggested strength and power.

She lifted a hand to her face, touching her features with a light finger. The collar was an abstract representation of _her_. Every color, every tone Senenmut saw when he looked at her was there, in cool metal and stones that would warm with the heat of his body. The heavy counter-weight at the back would sway against the top of his spine as he moved throughout his day, keeping the collar flat against his chest and, she hoped, reminding him of her.

“You’ve done well, jeweler. This surpasses my expectations.” She picked up the piece, surprised it wasn’t as heavy as it looked. It was still a substantial token of her favor, though, and would send an unmistakable sign to the rest of the court: _Senenmut was not only Steward of God’s Wife, he was a man much valued by the woman, Hatshepsut._ She turned it in her hands and looked thoughtfully at the smooth gold that would lie against his skin.

“I would ask one more thing. Engrave my personal cartouche here,” she said, pointing at a spot that would rest over the pulse point in his throat. She had cast the dice already, creating a gift so personal that its meaning would be obvious to him, even if she presented it as a royal token of his new status. She might as well go all the way.

A frown shadowed her brow. _Perhaps she should wait to see how their time at the winter palace went first._

She gently placed the gleaming collar back in its box, reminding the jeweler about the engraving as she dismissed him, and considered her timing. No, she finally decided. She’d not gotten to her position by patiently waiting. Boldness had been her ally thus far.

Her eyes fell on a large vase in the corner of the room, holding several stalks of purple and blue irises. The vase had been painted in the ancient Minoan style; graceful, long-limbed women dancing with long-horned bulls. Some of the figures arched their backs over their bull as they leaped. Some stood with their hands on the sharp horns, poised to launch themselves and fly into the air as the bull appeared ready to toss his head.

She, too, could learn to dance with her bull. She would grab him by the horns…and see if he could make her fly.

 

*****

 

“Do you think he’ll like it?” The lavender _ka_ seemed to turn towards the direction the jeweler had taken.

“I wish I knew. It’s pretty…ornate for a man, isn’t it? And he’s a clean-line, orderly kind of guy, like I am…was.”

“I think you’re forgetting those elaborate braided tassels you had hanging off your shoulder the first time I made an official presidential visit to _Galactica.”_

“My white silk aiguillette? That was part of my mess dress! I was trying to show my respect for the C-in-C’s visit.”

“And all those medals….” The lavender _ka_ seemed to throw off a few sparkles.

The gray _ka_ darkened. “I earned every one of those medals, Laura. Every part of that uniform had a meaning.”

Her _ka_ toned down to a pale mauve. “I know, Bill. I didn’t mean any disrespect. But you see how even a soldier can appreciate…ornateness, if it’s imbued with meaning?”

“Yeah, I get what you’re saying. And it does look like her, if you think about it.” His tone softened. “I can see how he’d think about her every time he looked down at it.” The air around his _ka_ rumbled as if he were thinking out loud, then the gray lightened. “Yeah, I’d wear it. If you were the one who gave it to me.”

The lavender _ka_ glowed with remembered pleasure.

They hovered around the tall open windows, finally slipping out and wafting over the private royal gardens.

“So, how do you think she’ll take his gift?”

“Hmm…do I detect a hint of concern, Admiral?”

“Well, it’s a simpler piece. Not as valuable. And she’s got beautiful jewelry she hasn’t even had a chance to wear yet.”

“Nothing that reminds her of him, though. She’ll love it, trust me.” Their edges blended together. “I was happy enough with a plain gold band that didn’t even fit.”

They blended further together, fluttering over the blossoms of new lotus buds floating in the central pool.

“I wish….”

“Hush, Bill…no regrets, remember? Let’s just enjoy what we have now.”

The air seemed to hum over the deep pink petals for a moment.

“I really think this holiday of theirs will be…when it finally happens. It just feels right.”

“Gods, I hope so. The dreams and flirting are okay, but….”

“Oh, I know what you're saying. Me, too. And Bill, that means we’ve got a decision to make.”

“You mean staying in this plane, or moving to theirs?”

“Um-hm. I’m enjoying the show, but I’m ready to feel all the feelings again.”

“I wish we could keep this connection. I can’t imagine not being like this, having access to your thoughts all the time.”

“We managed when I had my baby.” Her glow went to a soft pink for a second.

“Did I ever tell you how hard that was? Watching, knowing you were in pain, and not being able to be there for you?”

“I know, Bill. I felt the same way when you went to their plane after he joined the military campaign against the Kush. When you took that lance to your thigh, and everything else, I just….” Laura’s light dimmed until it was almost gone.

“I didn’t know how hard it would be for you then. I just…I spent almost fifty years as a soldier, Laura. I wanted to feel that one more time.”

“At least this time, we’ll be together. In the flesh, if not exactly in the spirit.”

“Do you think we’ll know? Know who we really are?” He sounded worried.

“Yes. Yes, Bill Adama. I’d know you in any form, any plane.”

His _ka_ shimmered. “Even non-corporeal, I can tell what look you’ve got on your face right now. That determined, ‘do not doubt me’ look.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all, Laura. That’s always been a good look on you.”

“Even when you decided to throw me in the brig?” Now her _ka_ shimmered, a fleeting giggle of the spirit.

“Even then. Hell, _especially_ then.”

“Is it a good thing I couldn’t read your mind back then?” The shimmering continued.

“I plead the 23rd Article of Colonization on that issue, Madam President,” he whispered, his _ka_ joining hers as they shimmered and spun together. Finally, slowing, the shapes began moving apart, further and further, fading as they each sought their destination.

 

************************************************

_ War. _

_ Death. _

_ Fear. _

_ Yearning. _

_ Love. _

_ Death again. _

Hatshepsut sat up with a gasp, wiping tears from her cheeks before she was fully awake. She shaded her eyes as the lamp beside her couch was lit from her maidservant’s candle.

“Lady, wake, please. Your dreams distress you.” Mandisa put her candle on the night table and sat on the edge of the sleeping couch, running a soothing hand down Hatshepsut’s arm.

“Oh, Gods, thank you, Old Mother.” She drew a shuddery breath. “It was a bad one.”

Mandisa pulled her former charge close to her side, as she had when Pharaoh had been just a child having a nightmare. “Tell me, La’ra, and get the noxious thoughts out of your head and into the night air so they may be blown away.”

Hearing her milk-name from her old nurse soothed her, and she leaned into the elderly woman’s embrace. “I’ve disturbed your slumber again, Mandisa. If you would let me give you your own apartments—“

“I can sleep undisturbed when I’ve gone to the land of the dead, Lady. Until then, I’ll sleep by your door as I have ever done. Don’t make me offend Pharaoh by arguing, my child.”

The hug was reassuring, and Hatshepsut finally relaxed, with her head on the fragile shoulder, as she’d done so many times in her youth.

“There was war. So much war…and the enemy—I know not if they were Kush, or the People of the Sea, or Hittites, as they were covered head to toe in armor, and they had one great, fearsome eye glowing red, as if they were demons as well. 

“I could not protect my people…we ran and ran, forsaking our land, leaving the Valley of the Nile behind.” Tears welled up as she remembered the horrible, bereft feeling of knowing, somehow, she’d never see her homeland again.

“A dream, my lady, not unexpected for one who wears the Upper and Lower Crown. It’s a heavy duty, I know,” Mandisa said.

A trembling ran through Hatshepsut’s body. “There’s more…I fell sick with a wasting disease. There were traitors among us, even in our most desperate times. There were few I trusted. All my faith was in one man, who stood by me to save our people.”

“A good man, then, to help you through your nightmare. The goddess Isis is generous.”

Hatshepsut nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, as is Horus…the man was a man of war, but a protector of family and a solver of problems.”

Mandisa pulled away and gave her a wide, toothless grin. “So your nightmare protector was the god Horus, he of the blue eyes? This part of your dream may be worth keeping, Lady.”

“That part broke my heart, Old One. He stayed by my side, yet we didn’t love openly. Not until I fell ill with the wasting sickness did we declare our love and take pleasure in each other.”

“Oh, my…a sad dream, indeed.” The old woman got up and shuffled to the dressing table, taking the small candle with her. She bent over scattered boxes, rummaging until she found what she was looking for and returned to the couch.

“Here, my lady. This will protect you from such dreams.” She fastened a beaded bracelet around Hatshepsut’s right wrist, centering the scarab over her pulse point.

“It wasn’t all bad, though. At the end, I finished my task. I brought my people to a new land, a place of peace.” She felt the remembered mix of fulfillment and sadness. “I had to leave the man behind, and travel on to the land of the dead alone.”

“Sweeting, we all travel to that land alone. But then we are together with our loved ones again. It’s not so fearsome a dream, I think. Perhaps on your visit to Count Senenmut’s new estate, you can reflect on what the gods are trying to tell you.” Mandisa rose.

“And keep in mind, Lady, sometimes our dreams only tell us that the dinner’s meat was too rich, or the dessert too sweet. Wear your talisman, and turn your thoughts to Count Senenmut and his blue eyes, as he is most definitely part of the living, waking world.”

The old woman pulled the sheet up to Hatshepsut’s shoulders and snuffed out the lights, touching the royal forehead before leaving. The gentle touch, the cool rasp of the sheets, the sweet fragrance of the myrrh beads woven into the bracelet were unusually vivid tonight. _I should savor all that is good while I can_ was her last thought before sleep claimed her again.

 

**********************************

 

Senenmut waited uneasily at the entrance to the royal apartments. His manservant Nuru stood behind him, still giving instructions to the porters bearing three days’ worth of clothing and toiletries. Nuru himself bore only one item: the small inlaid box that held Senenmut’s gift to Pharaoh.

“I still think I should wait until we arrive at the palace to offer her gift.”

Nuru smirked at his master. “And then it will be after the evening meal, and then you will want to wait for the light of day, and then there will be too many eyes for privacy…no, Count Senenmut, trust me on this. Make your offering now, and if she is displeased, wait a half-hour and claim sudden illness in your bowels. The trip will be cancelled and neither of you need speak of it again.”

Senenmut wondered if he would ever get used to the impudent guidance of his court-wise servant. “You really do have an answer for everything, do you not?”

“As I was born to do, your grace. The _ka_ of my mother and my living grandmother continue to teach me the ways of all that is important to my role."

“But she’ll have her arm bands and bracelets on already, with the rest of her day’s dress. She’ll have nowhere to wear it,” he said. He imagined her shapely arms, covered at the wrist and upper arm with gold and jewels, and her looking askance at his bronze and blue offering, one shapely eyebrow arched.

Nuru’s look was all innocence. “Regrettably, for her, if not so much for you, God’s Wife will find that her favored arm bracelet has an unsightly nick in the enamel, and will order it sent to the court jeweler for repair, leaving her right arm”—his voice lowered to a bare whisper—“naked, and yearning to be covered. And there you will be, offering what she needs.”

The new count felt his face flush at the very improper, but captivating, image his servant painted. He was considering whether he had time (or inclination) to reprimand his manservant’s unseemly remarks when the door opened.

Behind the royal butler and an assortment of servants was the elderly Mandisa, her smile barely showing her ivory teeth as she nodded at him, then Nuru. Senenmut caught a wink shared between grandmother and grandson, and his anxiety over his gift melted away.

As the servants, laden with baskets of supplies, quietly moved between the royal apartments and the forming retinue in the inner courtyard, Senenmut waited outside the inner throne room. He watched as a small assortment of nobles and court officials approached the Lady of the Two Lands, each speaking briefly on matters that apparently couldn’t wait two or three days for her return. One of the royal scribes sat cross-legged at the foot of the throne’s dais, ink palette, pens, and papyrus in his lap, carefully recording requests and royal responses.

Hatshepsut’s face was composed and serene as she listened, considered, then gave a precisely-worded response. It saddened him more than it should have, thinking that even on what should have been a day of rest and leisure, she still had tasks to which she must attend.

In some ways, he reflected, her time was less her own than that of the brick-layer, the seamstress, the baker. There was never a holiday from her business. His regret at this thought felt ageless and bone-deep. Surely as Steward of God’s Wife, he could encourage Pharaoh to preserve her health, her well-being. He gazed at the intricate tiles forming the floor; a peaceful scene of a reed-filled stream, wild birds hiding amid the brush while fat frogs sat on lily pads. He wondered if she still enjoyed the colorful images, or if this had become just another workroom for her.

“The Lady finishes,” Nuru whispered behind him. Senenmut looked up and caught her eye before he made his low bow. She looked pleased to see him, even with the faint circles under her eyes.

“Approach, Count Senenmut, and sit at my side while I give my scribe a last few words to record for posterity.” She smiled at the bit of self-mockery as she leaned over the seated scribe, reading what he had written.

“No, that should be two hectares on the fourth line, not three.” 

As she reviewed the record, Senenmut watched her from his seat. She had indeed left her right arm bare, and he shot a quick look at her old maidservant, who carefully avoided his gaze. The Gods alone knew how much plotting and scheming went on in the palace. At least this was for a benign cause.

He settled into his seat and gave himself over to enjoying the look of Hatshepsut this morning. No wig, he noted. Her dark, almost black hair was shot through with hints of red. It rippled down her back, unbraided, constrained only by a jeweled circlet engraved with the symbols of Upper and Lower Egypt.

He could almost feel the silky strands running through his fingers, and in his imagination, informed by his vivid early morning dream, the strands were more red than black. The wave of protectiveness he had felt throughout his dream came again, and it was all he could do to keep from taking her hand and pulling her away from her duties. His previous sadness came again. _We waste so much time on tasks no one will care about a hundred seasons from now._

A lightly sweet, almost nutlike scent with a hint of old leather made its way to his nose. Senenmut looked down at the Lady’s wrist. This was interesting…she could have any bracelet she desired, but on this day she wore a simple talismanic scarab on braided gold wire, bordered by beads of aromatic hardened myrrh. It looked like he wasn’t the only one having disturbing dreams....

He had been back in his first military campaign, the enemy cloaked in cloth-of-silver, rubies where their eyes should have been. In his dream they had kept coming, and he had fought endlessly...then she had been at his side, her hair a mass of red flowing locks as she  brandished her own dagger and shield. She had started fading away as he battled on, finally winking out like a candle being snuffed. He had won the fight, but had lost her in the process.

He had wiped the tears from his face before Nuru heard him stirring. Maybe he should buy a similar talisman to that which she wore. He wondered if he would be bold enough to ask her if it worked. 

As he watched (they were on the final roll of papyrus, thanks be to Thoth), a flash of pink caught his eye. Under the talisman for dreams, there was a thin red linen cord strung with quartz beads, each no bigger than a pomegranate seed.

His heart swelled and suddenly he felt sure that his gift would be well-received. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at the half-hidden love charm on the royal wrist. Whatever else the day would bring, Pharaoh’s wish for luck in love would be granted, if he had any say in the matter.


	6. Part Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Six: Gifts are exchanged and examined, layers of meaning are pondered, and confessions are made.
> 
>  
> 
> _My hand is in his hand. I wander together with him To every beautiful place. He makes me the first of maidens, Nor does he grieve my heart_

******************

 

The rattling of the scroll drew his attention away from the love charm on her wrist, as the royal scribe began gathering his tools. Hatshepsut rose and walked to the window, beckoning him to join her.

“Everything looks to be ready, Steward,” she said. “We’ll ride in the litter to the royal dock, then sail the rest of the way. The porters will travel by foot until the river. I’ve called for one of my guards’ chariots for our personal servants, as I’d not have mine make the walk at her age. Your Nuru has some skill at driving, as I recall. We should be at the winter palace by mid-afternoon.”

The light coming through the window turned Pharaoh into a shadow-play, the shape of her body clearly outlined under the fine-spun gossamer linen. Neat, knife-edge pleats fell from the top of her breasts to her feet, which were clad in leather sandals, hand-tooled lotus blossoms around her ankles. 

Her dress was draped close to her body, then brought over her shoulders to form loose half-sleeves before the ends of the fabric crossed at her waist, neatly tucked under her blue and green embroidered sash. He imagined he could see the faint outline of her nipples though the fabric, and wondered if they were as dusky pink and hard as the beads on her bracelet.

He swallowed hard and joined her at the window. “Lady, I would offer you a gift of thanks before we begin our journey, if it pleases you.”

Her eyes fell on a flat wooden box on the table under the window. “Let us exchange gifts, then, as I have something for you as well, Count Senenmut.” She glanced at him from under her lashes. Her look was unmistakable…the Supreme Ruler, God Incarnate, was _flirting_ with him. His palms were damp as he gestured for Nuru to bring him the small box.

Hatshepsut looked over to the royal butler. “Clear the room, please. Count Senenmut and I will take care of a last bit of business, and then we’ll be ready to depart.” She smiled at Nuru as he handed the small box to Senenmut. “Have a care with your grandmother’s old bones, young man. I expect her to tell me her journey was as comfortable as it was swift.”

He bowed low to both of them. “All will be to Pharaoh’s satisfaction, Great One.” He walked backwards to the doorway, then gently took Mandisa’s arm. The old woman raised an eyebrow at Hatshepsut and nodded once at the flat box, then let her grandson lead her from the room.

“Well, architect, here we are. Shall I go first, as I am Pharaoh and your sovereign?” She reached for the box on the table.

“I would ask to go first, Lady. I fear the humble nature of my gift will compare poorly with whatever you’ve chosen to give me, and I may lose my nerve unless I go first.”

He tried to make his tone teasing, a bit ironic as he’d heard other titled members of court speak. The words felt foreign on his lips. He was not expecting her disappointed look.

“I hope I haven’t lost the man Senenmut already, to have him replaced with a polished courtier. Do you truly lack confidence in your choice?”

_ So much for aping the court popinjays. _

“Actually, no, Lady, I do not,” he said. "The materials are not rich, but I stand behind the design and the sentiment of my gift as a true token of my…respect and appreciation.”

He met her eyes, and was rewarded with warmth and pleasure from hers. “That is the man who has been at my side this year, helping me plan and build. Come, show me what you bring.”

Senenmut straightened his shoulders and held the box out to her, opening it at her nod. The room seemed brighter, somehow, the perfumed air sweeter. He watched her eyes widen as she lifted the bronze bracelet out of the box. He began to feel his nerves twanging as plucked strings on a harp. She turned the piece this way and that, moving closer to the window’s light.

He had started to sweat at his brow, when she finally gave him a smile full of understanding…and something else. She turned towards him until she was close enough for him to see the gleam on her skin where she’d had scented oil applied. 

Holding the bracelet in one hand, she reached out and touched his bare chest with the other, as if to hold him steady. Her eyes stayed focused on the piece as she touched it against his skin.

His breath caught as he looked down at her hand, pale gold and warm against his darker skin. The cool of the bronze was a sharp contrast as she held it still.

“You’ve done well at ordering an exact match, architect. The bronze is as if your flesh were made metal, save for these”—she lightly brushed one copper-colored nipple, then the other, with her thumb—“and, I suspect, other, deeper-toned areas of your person.”

He tried to suppress the shudder that went through him at her caress and suggestive words. 

“Such was my design, my lady.”

She tilted her head up, and the arched column of her throat, he suddenly knew, would be the model for every column in her tomb’s pavilion. For every column he would ever design, until the day he died.

She raised the bracelet to his face, moving her eyes between his eyes and the deep blue lapis lazuli.

“Am I to think of you whenever I look at this? Are the moonstones for the sparkle in your eyes I see, when you are pleased with something and think I’m not looking?” Her tone had lowered and her lips were moist from a flick of her tongue. Her fingers touched the ridge of his cheekbone, his temple, and finally came to rest at the corner of his eye.

His voice was husky to his ears. “If my Lady wishes it to be so, then it is. If that image is not to your liking, let it represent the Nile, at first twilight, under a moonless, star-filled sky.”

“I would have you render such scenes into limestone ceilings, architect, just as you describe. I am coming to enjoy the night sky as much as you do, I think. But this…I would not have this be the Great River, or Nuit’s star-clad body.” She spoke so softy, he could barely hear her, and the scent of figs and grapes were in her every exhalation as she moved still closer.

“What…would Pharaoh have, then?” He wanted to shift backwards, to keep his stirring erection from her notice, even as his chest felt the subtle brush of her nipples through the almost transparent fabric of her gown.

“I would have everything as you designed, Count Senenmut. Every time I look at this, I will see your face, your eyes, your body…” Her fingers began to curl into his chest, and he stifled the beginning of a groan as his erection, now hard as marble, brushed against her stomach. Her eyes changed from languid to alert in an instant, and he felt her hand open wide against him, then slide away to hold the other side of the bracelet.

Her voice seemed reedy as she took deep, measured breaths. “A moving piece, indeed. I am much pleased, steward. Please, as my maidservant has left us, fasten this on my arm.” 

She reached out to put one hand on his shoulder as she handed him the bronze piece. His hands trembled for a second as he opened the bracelet on its hidden hinge, then brought it up to her arm, just to the spot where her muscles dipped into a faint hollow, a few centimeters below her sleeve. His touch grew steady as he placed it exactly as he’d envisioned, his fingers running over her bare skin.

_ She shivers at being touched on the inside of her arm, just…here. _

Running his thumb further along Hatshepsut’s inner arm, he watched, fascinated as her eyes fluttered closed for a second. He committed her reaction to his memory, to think on later. The hidden clasp clicked shut, and he saw with pleasure that the circumference was perfect, not overly tight, not loose enough to fall.

“Put your arm down, so that I may see the fit.” She raised her eyebrow at his instruction, but did as he asked, while part of his mind was horrified that he’d just told Pharaoh to pose for him.

The rest of his mind was taken up at how perfect the bracelet looked on her, the deep, burnished bronze, the blue stones, the twinkling flashes of light. She apparently thought so, as well…she turned her head to gaze down at it with a pleased, satisfied smile.

“If I develop a stiffness in my neck from looking at your gift over-long, I tell you now, Count, I will hold you responsible.” She looked up, gazing into his eyes as avidly as she had gazed at the lapis lazuli. “In all truth, Senenmut, it is beautiful. I see this, and I see you in it. I shall wear this into my tomb, underneath my wrappings.”

His heart began to soar at her words, until she talked of tombs and funeral wrappings, and a phantom pain shot through his chest, as if a lance had pierced his sternum. The image of her, dead and ready to be entombed, seemed unnatural and incredibly sad. He thought of his dream.

“May that day be many, many seasons from now, Lady.”

She ran her fingertips over the ripples cast in the metal, then looked out the window.

“My entourage grows impatient, I think. I must give you your gift, and then we will start our journey.”

She looked down at the bracelet again. “I promise you, Count, that my gift to you will not overshadow this treasure.” She met his eyes once more. “I confess I cannot think of anything that could.”

Inside, his desire and sense of right and wrong were waging a fierce fight. He could easily envision how they could tease and flirt and speak through gifts and whispers for months, and something within him was shouting “Don’t let this happen!” And again, that strange, out-of-place thought came: _roll the hard six_ , even though there were no dice in sight.

“My lady, I will open this box in a moment, as you wish. But before I see what you wish to give me, I must tell you something.” He cleared his throat, and was encouraged by her open, curious look.

“Before you give me whatever gift is in this box, before we travel to the winter palace…before we star-gaze on the river…you must know this." He fought the tightness in his chest.

“I am ever loyal to Pharaoh…she is Egypt, and Egypt is her. You are the God Incarnate and God’s Wife, in truth, you are all that _is_. And I am your subject, your servant, for all my life.”

He took a steadying breath. “But I confess, Lady, that you have also become Hatshepsut to me, in my mind and heart. I think of your eyes, your smile, your scent when I’m alone in my chambers.”

The kohl around Hatshepsut’s lashes glistened with a hint of brimming tears as she listened, one hand rising to her lips.

“Before you give me anything you might regret, know this…I would offer myself to you as friend, and as lover, if you would have me, for the days at the winter palace, or a lifetime, as you will.” Senenmut’s jaw clenched as the air grew still around them. He might get his throat cut for his brashness, but there was something inside him that would never give him peace until his words were out.

Hatshepsut’s color was high in her cheeks, her eyes flicking from his own eyes, to his body, his hands, and then stayed steady on his face. He wondered if she were speechless, searching for the words to send him away. It became unbearable to watch, as unknowable thoughts shadowed her features.

“Great Lady, if…this offer is unwanted, I would respectfully decline your gift, as I would not accept it under false pretenses, you thinking its meaning is one thing, and me wanting it to be more.” He stood as stiff as a new soldier and waited, hands folded at his waist.

“Senenmut?”

He wished he could close his eyes, not see her look when she sent him away. He wondered if there would be anger at his presumptuousness, or pity at his hopes.

“Yes, Lady?”

He fixed his gaze on a mural behind her, not ready to see the look in her eyes yet. A quiet rustling of fabric reached his ears, and smooth wood touched his clasped hands. Her voice was pitched deep, soft.

“Beloved Architect…open your gift.”

She spoke the endearment as if she was bestowing a title. His heart leaped as he took her meaning, and his hands were sure as he opened the box.

 

*************************************

 

_ It is like magic, that a few words have instilled such calm in him.  _ At her words, something had seemed to open in him, as a lotus blossom opens at the peak of its maturity _. _

_ Careful, Hatshepsut…it would be too easy to misstep and fall into this one, and there are rapids underneath the steady surface here, that could sweep the incautious away. _

As she watched him open the box, she told her inner voice, which had served her well in a lifetime of hazards, to be still. For the first time in her memory, she knew somehow that if she fell, it would be into safety, into his arms, and that was a pleasant thought indeed.

“Oh, Lady….” Senenmut was staring into the fabric-lined box, his eyes slowly going over every inch of the jeweled collar. His smile grew broader by the second. She sent up a quick silent prayer to Isis that he would see the significance of the design, that it would be more than a pretty piece to him. If not, perhaps she could drop a few hints on their journey.

His eyes lifted to her face, examining her hair, her lips, her eyes, flicking back to the collar and then again to her. She watched as he traced his forefinger over the different parts: the carnelian, the black enamel, the jade, the inner cartouche. As she waited for him to speak, he drew closer, until they were separated only by the width of the box between them. A sharp intake of breath parted her lips as he reached out to touch her with the same finger.

As she stood there, still as a serving girl, he stroked her hair, her brow, then lightly touched her lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispered.

“Is that for your ruler," she whispered, made shy by his touch, "Or your gift?”

“Oh, Lady, I take the meaning of your design.” His eyes were dancing now, and there was a confidence there that was new. “My observation is for both, as my ruler is woven into my gift, feature by feature, stone by stone.”

“And what meaning do you take from that, Senenmut?” She resisted an almost overpowering urge to touch his face, kiss his lips…and somehow, she knew how his lips would feel on hers.

“That you take pleasure in the thought of your head always resting on my chest, your hair lying against my skin, your lips always near my throat.” He was solemn now, speaking in the cadence of a heartfelt vow.

“You have the right of it, then. That was my meaning, perhaps even more than I knew myself.”

His tone turned thoughtful. “I know my own worth, my lady, and knew that I would be successful in designing great structures, and be rewarded for my work. But this…to be given a treasure that tells me Pharaoh… _Hatshepsut_ wants to be with me at all times—” A tear threatened his carefully applied kohl and he blinked it away. “Such a gift was beyond my dreams, but now that it’s in my hands, I can’t imagine not having it.”

_ We’re not talking about jewelry anymore, are we, beloved friend? _

A shrill whinny rose from the courtyard below. She leaned towards the window and saw that the entourage was waiting patiently, the horses less so, as the two of them wasted time in talk better suited to the privacy of the winter palace.

“And you needn’t imagine being without it," she said in a brisk tone. "Come, let me see how it looks on you.”

He held the broad collar in both hands and looked at it a bit uncertainly, rolling the counterweight, a heavy, cylindrical piece decorated in the colors of the collar, between his fingers. “I should call Nuru up, to help with the placement.”

“No need, Architect.” She took the collar out of his hands. “I helped my father, may his _ka_ know abundance, with collars much heavier than this, when I was a child. I think I can still do an adequate job. Come, turn your back to me.”

Hatshepsut caught the hint of a blush as he turned at her direction. She hoped he would adapt quickly to intimacy with her royal person, she thought wryly, or it would be a long and frustrating excursion.

She took a moment to admire the thick muscled shoulders and the tempting curve of his neck. Breathing deep, her senses were flooded with his scent and heat as she lifted the collar over his head and settled it on his shoulders. Her breasts pressed against his bare back as she reached, her nipples hardening as almost-forgotten sensations flew to her center. She moved against him for a second, grazing his skin, only stopping when she caught herself wanting to press her lips against the nape of his neck. The shudder that ran up his back told her he was equally moved by her touch.

She moved away, telling herself there would be time for teasing touches later. Her fingers moved in old remembered patterns as she fastened the ends of the collar and adjusted the counterweight to the center of his broad back.

“Just checking the alignment,” she murmured as she gave in to her impulse to run her finger down the length of his spine, down to the edge of his kilt. Gods, if just touching his back and his chest made her melt, she almost feared what it would be like to lie naked and open beneath him. She bit her lip. Surely one of the dozens of titles and names she possessed contained the attribute “fearless”. To prove it to herself, she dropped a feather-light kiss on his shoulder before she bade him turn around.

“Are you pleased with the look, my lady?”

A giggle of delight escaped her lips as she gazed at the collar, now in its place over his shoulders and chest. It lay flat against him, the rose gold accenting the deep copper of his nipples. The black enamel seemed to deepen the blue of his eyes. It was a lovely piece in its own right, and his olive skin brought warmth to the jade and gold that enhanced its beauty even more.

“Very much so, my steward. I confess you have been pleasing to my eyes since first we met, when you were bare of such ornaments, but I do find this to be a lovely addition.”

She sighed in satisfaction as she glanced down again at her arm bracelet. “It seems we’ve both chosen well for each other. I take that as a good omen for our excursion, Count Senenmut.”

“I agree, Lady.” He held out his hand and smiled, his teeth gleaming white against his skin. “Come, let us begin our time together.”

Hatshepsut took his hand. Although they had already worked together for an entire season, she knew exactly what he meant.

A new time for them was just beginning.


	7. Part Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Seven: As they start their holiday together, they both learn that there's more than one kind of journey. Paths of the past, present, and future intertwine and lead to unexpected destinations.
> 
>  
> 
> _"Let not your heart be troubled during your sojourn on earth, but seize the day as it passes! Put incense and sweet oil upon you, garlanded flowers at your breast, While the lady alive in your heart forever delights as she sits beside you"_

 

************************

 

Senenmut walked into the blazing light of the courtyard, the late morning sun beating down on the entourage and porters as they stood patiently, sweating in the heat. The great collar was warm on his skin, the counterweight at the back swaying with each step he took. 

He was grateful the jeweler had spaced the links and stones far enough apart to let his skin breathe. The flexibility and weight made the piece lay flat against his chest, stationary when he moved or bent as if it was part of him. Nuru glanced in his direction, his eyes growing wide as he took in the collar. His carefully schooled features stayed serene, but Senenmut caught the twinkle in his eyes as he made a lower obeisance than usual before bringing over a cup of wine.

“Something cool, Count Senenmut, before you begin your ride?”

He took the cup with a nod, watching to see that Hatshepsut was talking with the captain of her guard before speaking. The great litter was between them, gilded wood with a carved seat easily wide enough for two people. The sides were loosely woven screens that would allow air to flow while giving them some privacy, while the arched top would shield them from the sun’s rays. An elegant conveyance…and completely unfamiliar to him as a traveler.

“Nuru,” he said quietly, “have you experience with riding in a litter?” He felt his face flush as he realized he sounded like a country villager.

The cautious expression in Nuru’s eyes was unexpected. “I am not completely ignorant in such things, although of course I myself, being a servant, have never been carried in a nobleman’s litter. Why do you ask, my lord?”

Senenmut looked down at his feet, already growing dusty in the courtyard. They had always been reliable enough transport, save when he needed the speed and weight-bearing of a war chariot, or—he felt the muscles in his thigh jump as he remembered another time his own limbs had needed assistance. Senenmut ran a soothing hand down his leg. He’d gotten along well enough on foot and river boats, but her life had been different. So different…

“I…never mind, then, Nuru. I would hear something of what it’s like, before embarrassing myself in front of God’s Wife, was my meaning.”

His servant’s demeanor relaxed at his words. “I understand, my lord. It is a strange sensation, at first, to be carried about on the shoulders of men. If you would observe—discreetly, Count! Just past my left arm, see how there are two sets of six sturdy bearers?”

“I see,” he said, still doubtful.

“They train for this, in between times that their services are needed. Their pace, their distribution of the weight, is carefully calculated. By the time you leave the royal gates, it will feel no different than a boat on a mill pond.”

The twinkle returned. “I would suggest that your movement within be decorous and restrained, however. Movements of a…vigorous nature can shift the balance in a way that will be awkward for the bearers. Awkward for the travelers, too, as they realize they’ve announced to all that their feelings were too strong to wait for their destination.”

Senenmut sipped at the cool wine as he watched a hint of ruddiness creep over the royal servant’s face. “You speak as though you have great personal knowledge of such things, Nuru.” His lips quirked up as he realized the court servant might not be quite as decorous as he appeared.

“A servant of the royal household must have a great, broad knowledge of all manner of things, my lord.”

The smoothness had slipped over his face again, leaving Senenmut to speculate what nobleman, or noblewoman, might have invited the young man on an evening outing. He realized Nuru had shared his embarrassing account, vague as it might be, with good intentions. Amun only knew what he thought might take place in the screened litter.

“Nuru, the Lady was greatly pleased with my gift, as you predicted. I doubt, though, that it’s awakened any feelings so immediate that our bearers are at risk for discomfort.” He pictured her parted lips again, so close to him, felt again the touch of her breasts on his back, and to his embarrassment, he felt himself stiffen enough to slightly tent the front of his kilt.

His servant glanced down as Senenmut adjusted the drape of his garment. “An hour, no more, my lord, before you are at the royal quay and board Pharaoh’s yacht. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must give new instructions by runner for the crew, so that they know to arrange for privacy on the observation deck.”

“By the Gods, Nuru, I’m not going to—“ He stopped as Nuru turned towards Hatshepsut, deep in conversation with her maidservant.

“Perhaps not, my lord, but I see Pharaoh has spoken words to make my old grandmother blush with happiness.” He cocked a carefully arched eyebrow at Senenmut.

He was silent for a moment. He watched the smile play over Hatshepsut’s lips as she turned her arm so her maidservant could better examine her new bracelet, her fingers stroking the stones. To his surprise, he heard what sounded like an open-throated laugh coming from the Lady of Two Lands as she bent her head to the old woman’s ear.

He would do much, to hear that carefree sound from her again. As much as he dreamed of seeing her overcome with passion, he realized he dreamed of seeing her laughing as well, unburdened by the fate of Egypt on her slender shoulders.

Suddenly one hour sounded like ten.

The litter master opened the small screened gate at the side, standing stiffly as the bearers bent, ready to take up their task. Hatshepsut had walked over to where he stood, obviously ready to be seated inside. Even in the heat she still looked cool and fresh as a dish of minted cucumbers.

He handed his empty cup to a nearby servant. “Send the runner with your message, Nuru. I’ll see you at the quay.” He watched a guard help the old maidservant into a travel chariot, where she waited patiently for her grandson to take the reins.

“Your hand, please, Count Senenmut,” Hatshepsut said, as she extended her own hand.   
He helped her step in over the raised lip of the litter then seated himself next to her, both sitting straight as statues as the gate was closed and the litter was lifted into the air on long poles. It was an odd sensation, as Nuru had warned, and he was relieved when he felt the conveyance settle on a dozen broad shoulders. 

As they started off, he watched her draw a thin white curtain across the inside of the screen, then she gestured for him to do the same on his side. Finally, she tugged at a white cord at the edge of the roof, and another thin curtain fell at the very front, a half-meter beyond their feet, enclosing them in a cool, white space that rippled with the breeze.

“Once we’re out of the city, we can retract the curtains, if you’d like to see the countryside.” Her eyes were teasing as she smiled.

“I’m content with what I see, Lady, and have no need for other sights.” He took her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm as she sighed with pleasure and reclined slightly against the fabric-covered pillows. Mindful of his servant’s warnings, he slowly reclined next to her, their clasped hands resting together on his thigh.

“I’ve been advised that it’s wise to be very still while riding in a litter,” he said as their shoulders touched.

“I’ve been advised that gentle kisses have never yet caused a litter bearer to break his stride,” she rejoined.

“I bow to the greater experience of your maidservant, then, my lady.” 

It felt like the most natural thing in the world, to slowly bring his hand to her chin, cupping it lightly as he carefully moved to bring his lips down to hers. They were as soft and sweet as he’d imagined, yielding readily under his kiss. He drew back even as he felt her lips part under his. Her eyes shone like the cool jade on his collar, her lids half-closed as she hummed deep in her throat.

“Was that gentle enough, Lady?” he stroked a ringlet of hair that had escaped her circlet.

She looked thoughtful. “Do you test your builders’ skills only once, my architect, before determining their worth?”

“No, my lady.” He traced the line of her cheekbone, then caressed her ear, lingering at the hidden space behind it. “I test them multiple times, so that I know for sure how best to employ them, as the need arises.”

She brought her hand to the back of his neck, stroking lightly at the sensitive spot right over the collar’s counterweight. The rest of her body stayed still as stone. The scent of dates and honey was on her breath as she whispered bare inches from his mouth.

“A wise practice, Beloved Architect. It meets with my approval.”

He carefully leaned in to kiss the hollow of her throat, his subtle movements not so much as dislodging a single pillow. Suddenly, an hour seemed like no time at all.

 

***************

 

“What was in that small box your maidservant gave you when we arrived?” Senenmut said as he leaned against the ship’s rail, watching the prow cut through the water.

Hatshepsut leaned so that she was speaking close to his ear, forearms resting casually next to his on the rail. “She thought I might need to refresh my lip paint before exiting the litter.” She smiled as she looked out over the water, her newly painted lips a deep red.

A pavilion had been set up in front of the ship’s cabin, the blue and white striped cotton walls gently billowing in the river breeze. Both were screened from the eyes of the ship’s crew, and their attendants and royal staff were shadowy silhouettes on the other side of the covered space.

They had been interrupted only once, when the ship’s cook brought them plates of grilled fish, caught after they had left the quay, with a salad of lettuce, cucumbers and radishes, soft white rolls and a coarser loaf of barley bread. He had left a tray of sliced melon for the end of their meal, artfully arranged and scattered with ruby-red pomegranate seeds. For all its humble contents, Hatshepsut felt she was at a wedding banquet as she sat next to Count Senenmut, both feeding each other bites of bread dipped in honey.

_ Her own wedding banquet.  _ The thought was pleasing to something deep inside her, something half-hidden and ageless.

His bracelet kept catching her eye, the moonstones glinting in the sun. The thought that part of him would always be with her made her heart melt like a cone of perfumed wax at midday.

His delight in the river was palpable. He smiled at the changing scene before him, his rugged face animated as he looked at the banks, at the activities of the farmers and fishermen. She knew by the time her tomb was finished, there would be a statue of him, capturing his strong profile chiseled in stone, and that calm, wise look on his face. His eyes would be of lapis lazuli and moonstone, just as his gift suggested, and would look over her tomb forever.

Even if this was a only few days’ pleasure, to be put behind them upon returning to the city, the feeling was strong that it was right, even necessary, for his representation in stone to be with her for an eternity. She glanced at his profile again, and took delight in seeing his hand come to rest on her arm as if they had long been lovers. He had stopped asking permission, even with his eyes, before touching her.

She had stopped listening to a thready voice in her head warning her about letting others get too close. She had been obeying that voice for years, now. She had been careful thus far…surely she could have this. He’d proven himself a friend and ally for the year they had worked together. She hadn’t found him false in any way, nor had anyone else.

Of course, they hadn’t touched on many topics that would tempt a man to lie.

“Look, there, my lady, in the distance to the west. See that road, leading beyond your sight? That is the road to your great tomb, the foundations being built and almost rising above the ground already. As many men as lay the stones and mortar, an equal number carve back into the cliff, uncovering new surface on which to build. I would take you there soon, so that you may see our plans become reality for yourself.”

“We’ve not yet completed one excursion together, Count Senenmut, and you’re already planning another? You must find me a very agreeable travel companion, and be confident that I find you the same as well,” she teased.

The skin near his eyes crinkled into smile lines. “How could I not find God’s Wife agreeable, Lady? And I trust that were you not to find me so, you would make your feelings known.”

The title felt heavy, and for a moment she felt a shadow fall over the water in front of her. “Of course, you find Pharaoh agreeable. As does most of Egypt.”

His brow furrowed. “Only ‘most’, my lady?” His expression cleared in understanding. “Ah, you speak of—“

“Not here, please. See that shadow, the one that doesn’t move as much as the rest?”

She was pleased to see his movements were casual and cautious as he looked where she nodded without turning his head.

“My train of thought has flown, Lady. What else shall we speak of?”

She leaned close again. “Thank you, Senenmut. We will discuss things more freely after we are settled in the winter palace and all around us are well-trusted.”

In a normal tone, she asked, “Will you be installing those of your own, in the palace? Family, or”—she turned to look at the water—“a favored concubine of your own, as did my father?”

His startled reaction was gratifying. “My lady must know that I keep no concubine, if for no other reason that Nuru would have surely passed such information on to his grandmother by now, and she on to you.”

“I’m impressed at how well you grasp the pipeline by which all important information is passed, Count.”

Her tone was light but she had to admit, if only to herself, that she was curious as to what he’d been doing for his physical desires the past year, and before. He’d never yet been linked to any of the noblewomen, although at least two courtiers had sent their wives back to their estates after hearing admiring gossip about the royal architect. And he never sent for a night companion. He had the right of it; such news would have been whispered in her ear the next day, now that Mandisa knew where her heart was turning.

“Is it such a mystery that I seek information about one so close to me?” She placed her hand on his. “I confess a curiosity about your life before your arrival at court. I have heard nothing about a wife, a concubine…not so much as a drunken tumble after a night of excess wine. And yet you told me without words in the litter that you find a woman’s kisses, a woman’s touches…pleasing.”

A look of old, worn sadness came into his eyes, and she regretted her question. “If you’d rather—“

“No, Lady. It was a long time ago, and no longer pains me as it used to.” His deep blue eyes held hers in a steady gaze that bore no current distress. Whatever it was, the sharp edges had long been ground down. She ran her thumb over his knuckles, feeling each ridge above the thick fingers.

“Tell me, then, and may a portion of your sadness come to me, and leave you lighter.” She gave him an encouraging smile.

His eyes seemed to darken and take of the look of a younger man.

“It was the year of your father’s last great campaign against the Kush, the campaign where”—he dropped his voice—“I got the scar on my thigh, that you noticed.”

She looked away, embarrassed again at her boldness in the litter, brushing her fingers slowly up his calf, surprising herself (and him, she suspected) when she didn’t stop at his knee. Her maidservant’s warnings were ringing in her ears, and she was ignoring them happily, when her fingers touched a long, rough ridge of flesh on his outer thigh. Even in the shadows cast by the curtains, she could see his pushed-up kilt revealed a long puckered scar, still raised and red after what must have been years.

“I know the scar you speak of, yes.”

She had noticed the scar…and a great deal more, as he had tried to shift his hips to readjust his kilt without alerting the litter-bearers. He finally had to retie his loincloth, red-faced and moving a couple of inches at a time as he restrained himself again. He had looked so uncomfortable that she had silently promised to leave off provoking him until they were safely ensconced at the palace.

“Battle was an exciting thing then…. I have since come to your majesty’s way of thinking on war, and I curse the generals who call you weak and careless for avoiding it. But then, as a youth of twenty, being a soldier was a great adventure.”

“I’m surrounded by those who have enjoyed such glory, Count. It’s no mystery to me, believe me.”

His cheeks seemed to flush a bit, or perhaps it was the sun reflecting off the water. “Then you may know, as well, that there are young maidens in the villages and towns soldiers pass through, and a Pharaoh’s military campaign looks glorious from a distance, the horses and flags, hundreds of young men in their short fighting kilts….”

“The ranks of camp followers, you mean. The temporary companions of the battlefields.”

“Not all are seeking to lie with a soldier, my lady. Some joined our ranks for excitement, or for the guarantee of bread and meat after losing a husband. And a few sought to hold a shield or dagger and join the fight.”

She nodded thoughtfully. She had seen some like he talked about, wearing short, heavy tunics over bound breasts, some with bows slung on their backs by a quiver of arrows. A rare thing, but not unheard of.

“There was one such, called Jasmine, who asked to….” He looked away. Her heart was heavy for him now.

“Who asked to walk with you.”

“Yes.” He sounded grateful for her quick understanding. “She stayed to the back, with the camp followers, but she kept my weapons in good repair and sparred with me when we camped, to keep my skills well-honed.”

He was quiet for a moment, a hint of a smile playing around his lips, then began again.

“When we made the final advance against the Kush, all was chaos as we fought. I went down, a lance, as you saw, piercing my thigh.”

A tingle of envy went through her, as she imagined the young woman who had been with him, both of them unfettered by protocol or responsibility past the day’s fight. “She was at your side, then?”

“If she had been…” His shoulders slumped as his hand tightened on hers. “But she was not. She had stayed at the camp, helping to tend those already wounded in the previous week’s fighting.”

His voice roughened with old anger. “We did not know, then, that the Kush army had split off one legion, which had gone north of us, to swoop in at our flank.”

_ Oh, Gods. _ All envy she had washed away, as she imagined a camp left with women and the wounded, watching for news of the front fighting, and finally hearing the enemy coming from behind.

“The battle won, I was helped back by my unit, and dealt with the pain by imagining Jasmine dressing my wounds, giving me something cool to drink….”

“Were the Kush still there when you returned?”

“There was no one there. No one still alive. I may have taken fever by the time we returned, but to my memory, all was awash in blackening blood, as we feared once we saw the vultures circling in the air. Jasmine…I found her near one of the wounded, both of them speared through the heart.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath, and she could tell he could still see the scene, even now.

“She had a dagger in each hand, both blood-stained. There was a Kush soldier dead at her feet, a bloodied lance near him, fallen from his grasp.”

He finally looked at her, his eyes looking for signs she was accepting the tale for what it was, a part of his history. She was surprised to feel tears well up for this young, brave woman, now twenty years or more in the land of the dead.

“I gave her a soldier’s burial, the weapons she died with left in her hands. We buried many that day. Once my wound was bandaged, I fashioned a crutch from a broken spear and some rags, and did my share of digging one-handed, as best I could.”

He shaded his eyes with his free hand and bowed his head, and she watched his lips move as he recited a quick prayer for the dead. Finally he relaxed, and she knew without asking that he had not spoken of this with others, but had carried it with him as quietly as he carried his scar. She hoped the telling had given him some ease.

“After that…I would hide nothing from you, my lady, but I would not bore you with the story of a young man in the capitol city, as it is one story with a million tellers. I never found a woman who wished to see me as I truly was, who did not want to reshape me or my history in some way, more to her liking.”

“Never?”

Hatshepsut was drawn taut as a bow string, his past loneliness calling up her own. Her heart leapt in her breast when he smiled at her, looking tired but hopeful.

“Until I came to court, Lady. That first day, I thought I was going mad as I watched you there on the throne of Egypt. How could my mind, my heart be telling me ‘this is the woman who will accept your heart as it is’ when I was looking at Pharaoh, Ruler of the Two Lands? Thus, I misspoke, and said I was _your_ architect instead of _an_ architect.” He shook his head at his remembered embarrassment.

“A prophetic slip of the tongue, it seems, as you have indeed become mine, in so many ways.”

She was unprepared for the heat that flashed in the depths of his eyes. The banked desire he had ignited in the litter came roaring back as he turned towards her, raising one hand to the back of her neck under her dark curls. He seemed more imposing that he had only a moment ago, his strength and brawn radiating from him as he moved closer until they were all but embracing.

“Under Nuit’s star-filled eyes this night, I will become yours in all ways, my lady, if it pleases you.”

Her breath came faster as his words went right to her core. She had wondered, during their careful dalliance in the litter, if she had misunderstood his…his love-talk in her apartments. Men swearing a lifetime of devotion to her was nothing new, as courtiers came and went through her reign. He had been playful as they had teased each other with feather-light kisses and sensual touches.

“I tell you this, Senenmut, it pleases me very much. And speaking not as Pharaoh, but as Hatshepsut, daughter of Thutmose…I was planning to share your bed on this trip, but now….” She smiled to herself as a faint look of consternation crossed his face, as if he feared she had changed her mind.

“Now,” she continued, “I would seek to become yours, in all ways, with the goddess of the night sky as witness, as you say.”

By the Gods, his look of soul-deep happiness tore at her heart as sharply as his sadness. She had waited long to see this exact expression on his beloved face. _Longer than you know,_ whispered that thin voice in the back of her mind.

The familiar sounds of the crew bustling about as they prepared to dock met her ears, as the quay of the winter palace came into sight. She watched Senenmut as he took in the outbuildings forming a square around the large central structure, the green of the irrigated gardens laid out in neat patterns. To her delight, he wound an arm around her waist as casually as if they had spent years together as intimates.

_ Hurry, blessed Nuit, and turn the sky the color of his eyes, so that we may be as we were meant to be, joined together with the star-filled sky as our witness. _


	8. Part Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing memories and enjoying a housewarming leads to a long, slow burn...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Is there anything sweeter than this hour? for I am with you, and you lift up my heart"_

 

 

 

 

The deck swayed gently beneath their feet as the boatmen tied off the lines, snugging the royal yacht close to the dock while other hands lowered the gangway. The sheltering cloth pavilion was being dismantled behind them, to be carefully folded and stowed until the return trip.

“No litter, Lady?” Senenmut looked over the deck, then scanned the dock for a similar conveyance.

“It’s a short walk, Steward, and my sandals are thick-soled.” She looked down as she flexed her henna’d toenails, colored deep red and neatly shaped. “I have many things to show you, both before we enter the palace, and after.”

He smiled into her jade-colored eyes. “I willingly accept Pharaoh’s guidance in all things.”

“A wise decision in this case, if not in all.” She looked from one side of the quay to the other as they waited for the servants bearing fans of palm fronds to shade them from the sun. Once the entourage was assembled, Hatshepsut stepped down the few steps to the dock, then stopped, waiting for him.

“We seem ready. Nuru and Mandisa will manage the rest of the staff until the palace butler takes charge.” She gave him a sidelong look from under her eyelashes. “Will you give me your arm, Senenmut, and escort me into your new home?”

His heart swelled. All Egypt belonged to Pharaoh. She could walk into any home in the two lands and claim it as hers if she liked. Her request was another sign that they would be as a man and a woman while they were here. He extended his arm and she lay her hand on his wrist as lightly as a butterfly, her jeweled rings flashing in the sun.

“Nicely done, but we’re not at court now, even if we’re not as secluded as on my yacht. Please, relax your arm and let’s walk as that couple by the date tree.” He followed her glance. A dozen meters away, a young couple walked along a path shaded with palm trees towards a small group of houses. The woman’s hand was nestled tightly against the man’s arm, and they walked together, touching each other often, the man bringing a plump date to the woman’s lips.

“Carefree lovers,” he observed.

“As we will be, if only for a few days,” she said soberly. “I have seen lovers like that many times. I’d accepted that I was meant to have other things in life...”

He glanced at Hatshepsut, but her eyes were still on the couple.

“Life changes, Lady. As we see.” He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

They began walking down the wooden dock to the wide clay road leading to the outer courtyard of the palace. The years seemed to fall away for Hatshepsut as she called his attention to one point of interest after the other. Her memories as a child visiting her father and his other family seemed to be happy ones.

“See that palm tree, the one in the middle of the grove? It gave me this memory.” She took his finger and ran it down her forearm, over a small bump under the skin. “A cousin dared me to climb past the height of the granary roof. I was bold, even then, and climbed like a monkey as high as I could go. Naturally, having a bit more nerve than I had experience, I fell, giving myself a green-break and earning my cousin a sound beating.”

“Poor Princess, and poor cousin.”

She laughed. “Mostly ‘poor cousin.’ I was confined to the palace for the rest of the visit, and given the run of the First Concubine’s library.” She leaned into him and whispered conspiratorially. “All the scrolls I could ask for, and no boring tutors in sight to make a misery out of learning. It was quite nice, although I let my father think I considered myself duly punished.”

It was so easy to see the girl she had been. Her gestures had become freer as they walked, pointing out other areas she’d enjoyed as a child as they approached the main building.

It was large, and clearly designed with care. The outer courtyard was plain; simple walls three bricks wide and two meters tall. Groups of palm trees had been planted to give shade to the interior courtyard walls. Narrow stairs at each end led up to the main level, with a wide sloping ramp going from the outer courtyard to the middle of the structure. The ramp drew the eye to the columns of the entrance, the pink granite glowing beneath the elaborate carved capitals, painted white and green in the design of bundled papyrus reeds.

A group of white-kilted servants waited at the entrance, the butler identifiable by the ring of keys hanging from the sash at his waist. Each one bowed low at his and Hatshepsut’s feet, then melted into the background to carry out their various tasks.

As soon as he entered the main hall, Senenmut was struck by the expansive wall paintings and the mosaics set into the floor. The wooden columns of the interior were also painted with shades of blue and green, bright gilt accenting the carvings of barely opened lotus buds at the top of each one. Hallways stretched to his right and his left. Low tables and stools set by narrow windows, which cast sunlight on lacquered boards and carved game pieces. Niches along the walls each held two or three scrolls of the size that would offer poetry.

“Rich and peaceful. I understand why your father enjoyed his time here.”

She walked beside him through the high-ceilinged halls, her sandals making a soft shushing sound on the tiles. “He did indeed. Sitamun was a woman of great kindness and respect. She gave him comfort after Queen Ahmose died, may her journey remain peaceful.”

“Your mother,” he said quietly.

Yes." Her eyes dropped for a moment before returning to the brightly painted images. “There are many paintings in the halls here of my mother, and my sister and myself as children. Sitamun thought it would ease my father’s heart after his First Wife left the land of the living. My heart, as well. I’ll be curious, my steward, if you can pick out my portrait.”

_I would know you anywhere, at any age, my heart’s love._

He could feel her history here, the running child, the girl growing into the responsibilities of her position. A lifetime of training for her role as Pharaoh…he wondered if she had known, even as a child, the power she would one day hold. It seemed a heavy burden to carry, but surely better than being thrust into power unprepared…although something told him she would have managed even that with calm competence.

The quiet halls were so different from the bustling corridors of the royal palace, and he found it a welcome relief.

"The servants here, they seem unusually unobtrusive. Is that by design, Lady?”

He looked down the length of the hall as they walked. He could smell food cooking at some distance, and the lilting harmony of stringed instruments came through the eastern windows that faced an inner courtyard, but the area they were in was largely deserted.

“The old butler, Isaia, has always trained his staff to give the residents the semblance of privacy, as the reality of it is so often beyond the reach of those like us.”

“Were you thinking of that, Lady, when you made me this gift?”

He smiled as they paused by a glittering mural of lotus flowers in a shady alcove. A large jar of decorative reeds stood to one side, shielding them from the sight of anyone who might come into the hall.

“I was thinking of many things, Senenmut.” She stepped closer, guiding him into the half-hidden alcove. “Perhaps I envied the freedom of a kitchen maid to share kisses with a well-favored cup-bearer, and wished to enjoy such freedoms for myself.”

He took her chin in his hand and looked down, deep into her teasing eyes. “One kiss now, to satisfy your curiosity about kitchen maids and cup-bearers.” He leaned down and started to give her a fleeting kiss.

“No, Senenmut, I’ve had your gentle kisses at the first of our journey. We’ve no litter-bearers to unsettle here. I would have a taste of what our feast will be tonight.”

Her voice was like a love song to his ears as she twined her arms around his neck and reached up to take his lips with hers. It was as if a long-banked fire suddenly found a strong draft of fresh air, breathing embers into flame. The course of their night was crystal clear, he thought as he skimmed his hands over her shoulders, her breasts, then circled her waist. Emboldened by her touch, he pulled her close,  pressing himself against her delta.

“Is this taste enough, sweet lady?” he whispered in her ear, “or shall we count on the servants’ training to overlook our taking our fill of each other, here, as we stand?” He was gratified to see his impertinent words fluster her just enough to be noticeable.

She smiled as she ran her fingers over his lips. “I did tell you to make this palace your own, didn’t I? It pleases me to see you take my request so…vigorously to heart.”

“I await your answer, Hatshepsut. Shall I continue our course?” He wondered if he was losing his mind from being so close to her all day. Surely there were soft couches for them to lie on as they pleasured each other, perfumed water to bathe away the dust of their trip, wine to refresh them…. But just this minute, the desire to press her against the wall with ravenous kisses, to shove soft linen aside and guide her thigh over his hip as he sought her entrance…it was strong enough to fog his senses.

_Gods, her eyes glowed with desire as she looked at him. There was an eternity of want there._

“If we were not weighted down with jewels and finery, Count Senenmut, and in such need of some refreshment after our journey, I would show you how much the servants here can ignore.” Her voice was edged with rough wanting. She trailed her finger around the lower edge of his collar, leaving his skin tingling in its wake.

“I did say I needed someone familiar with the palace to show me everything I needed to know.” He swept his lips over her temple.

Hatshepsut leaned into him, pressing her cheek against his for one sweet moment before pulling back and tugging him out of the alcove. “I think, then, the next thing you should see is the rooftop pavilion.” She tucked her arm in his again as they continued down the hall.

“Not the courtyard? Nor the fountains, or banquet hall or the library?” he teased. “Not the sleeping chamber?”

A secretive smile danced on her lips. “There is perhaps more to the pavilion than you imagine, Count Senenmut. My private suite by the throne room is of similar design. A small pool, a substantial sleeping couch…and then, unique to this palace, a chest with unguents, oils, and a lovers’ collection of erotic poetry and art.” She raised a delicate eyebrow. “I suspect you’ll be well-pleased.”

He brought her hand to his lips as they walked through a tiled archway into the inner courtyard. A large fountain in the center was flanked by two small lotus pools, the high surrounding walls already blocking the setting sun’s rays.

“This is all lovely, by design and execution, but something tells me I would be well-pleased with nothing more than a simple tent on a quiet patch of earth, if you were sharing it with me.”

Her face took on that curious listening quality again. ”A simple tent, and lying with you under the stars.... The idea delights my heart, but brings me an odd disquiet as well.”

“Perhaps it’s best that such a setting isn't an option, then.” He looked past the gardens behind the lotus pools to the carved stairs going up to the rooftop and the simple structures there.

“From your description of the pavilion, Great Lady, I think it will exactly suit our purpose.”

Perhaps they’d create some love poems of their own.

 

 

 

###################################

 

 

 

Nuit had stretched across the night sky, the stars of her body casting down light in competition with the full glowing moon. Torches set into the wall above the staircase flickered in the gentle breeze carrying the earthy rich scent of the Great River, underscored with the sweet scents of night-blooming flowers.

“Was the food not to your liking, Your Grace?” Isaia nodded his head towards Senenmut’s plate. The motion set the butler’s wig askew on his wrinkled head, his face full of concern.

Senenmut glanced at the pieces of roast pigeon and braised radishes left on his plate. “It was well-prepared and skillfully seasoned, Isaia. Tell the cook I enjoyed what I ate, but I am tired and would seek my couch sooner than I’d seek a full belly.”

The old man raised his thin wisp of an eyebrow. “And yet my old eyes tell me every bite of lettuce has been devoured.” He shot a glance to Hatshepsut’s plate. “It would appear the plate of God’s Wife, Lady of the Two Lands, mirrors yours, Your Grace.”

“It is the taste of the fresh lettuce, Old Isaia, not its aphrodisiac properties that the Count and I enjoyed, if that is your meaning.” She folded her hand over Senenmut’s as it rested on the table.

“I find the lapis lazuli of my architect's eyes a stronger aphrodisiac than any lettuce ever grown in Egypt’s fields. His gaze is more than sufficient to fill me with happy desire.” She looked at Senenmut as she spoke, and his delight at her words made up for any embarrassment in front of the old man.

Senenmut met her eyes, holding them with his as he kissed her hand.

“I would have pomegranate wine, melon, and peaches brought to the pavilion,” he said, addressing the butler, “as you worry for our hunger.”

Hatshepsut’s eyes had darkened in the flame’s shadow. “A jar of honey, and one of fresh olive oil as well, Old Isaia. Set a tray by the rooftop bathing pool. I trust the water is fresh?”

The old man spared a glance towards a shadowy figure by the archway leading to the lower sleeping chambers, who Senenmut took to be Mandisa. He knew the maidservant’s smile would match the butler’s, if he could see it.

“New water was brought up this morning, God’s Wife. Thick linen towels have been arrayed by the pool, and a flask of your favored almond oil is there as well. All is as in order as it would have been in your father’s time, Anubis guide his _ka_.” He gave a stiff bow of respect as he spoke, then flicked his glance again at Mandisa.

“Will you require the services of your maid, Great Lady?” the old man asked quietly.

Maybe the date wine with dinner made him bold; maybe it was the lettuce, after all, Senenmut reflected as he answered for Pharaoh.

“Any services the Lady requires, I will provide, Isaia. I think undressing and bathing the Lady of the Two Lands is well within my abilities, along with anything else she needs.”

Her jade-green eyes sparkled in the firelight, rewarding his forthright words. She was as ready for them to be alone as he was. His confident tone masked the thrumming of his heart underneath the wide jeweled collar. It felt like he'd waited ages for this moment, this night.

Nuru appeared silently at the old butler’s elbow. “Come, Old Isaia. Mandisa would take a cup of wine with you and talk of the days you both were young.”

The old butler righted his wig with a shaky hand and bowed to Pharaoh and her steward as low as he was able, before walking with Nuru to the other side of the courtyard. Somewhere close but out of sight, musicians began to play a slow, subtle melody on harp and flute.

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Nine: Up on the roof, under a starry sky, two lovers find all they expected...and in some ways, quite a bit more!
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> __  
> "My heart desires to go down to bathe myself before you, That I may show you my beauty in a tunic of the finest royal linen... I'll go down to the water with you..."
> 
> ************************

“What do you think of the view, Steward?” Hatshepsut gestured to the torch-lit expanse that spread out in front of them to the river and beyond. The full moon lit the surrounding brick and stone houses and granaries, a scattering of small pools reflecting back its light. The sky was dark above them, fields of stars that faded under the moon’s illumination.

The light from the torches and moon was enough to see the painted tiles surrounding the edge of the rooftop bathing pool: bright red fish and stalks of irises alternating with lotus flowers, some tightly furled new buds, some, fully formed blossoms. The pool was small—perhaps two meters on each side—and deep, the perfect size for two lovers to share.

Past the pool was a small room with an awning attached, giving another level of privacy for those who wished it. A low sleeping couch was placed under the awning, fresh sheets spread over its padded surface. A small table held wine cups and a flagon filled with the pomegranate wine Senenmut requested, she noted. Another held a bowl of ripe peaches and a dish of melon. By a small brazier, another low table held jars of honey and oils.

There was not light enough to read the scrolls of erotic poetry kept in the chest by the sleeping couch, but Hatshepsut suspected they’d create their own poetry tonight. Perhaps, in the morning, she would wake him by reading one of her favorites as she lay next to him. The idea made her smile.

She watched his profile as he leaned back against the rooftop wall and tilted his head back to look at the night sky.

“It’s beautiful, Lady. I only wish we were here at the new moon and were seeing the stars’ full light. I would show you every constellation, and the path of the Great North Star.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes dark in the soft light. “I’ll bring you back here at the new moon, and show you the designs I would install on the ceilings of your tomb.”

“You plan to make regular visits to your new home, then.” Her eyes crinkled at the corners in pleased amusement.

“Only if you join me, Lady. Otherwise, it would not feel like home at all, just another obligation to care for.”

“You put a heavy responsibility on me, Steward, to make your estate feel like your home.”

He caressed the side of her neck as they stood there, separated by a scant few inches. “I’ve seen the responsibilities you carry, Lady. I don’t think this one will weigh too heavily.”

“I trust your judgment, then, in this matter…as I’ve come to do in so many others.” She breathed deeply of his scent, sandalwood and iris with an undernote of sweet musk as she leaned her forehead against his.

“Show me your skills as a ladies’ maid, as you bragged to your butler, Senenmut. I would have us enjoy the bathing pool before we enjoy each other.”

“It would be my pleasure.” He stepped back and led her to the couch. “I believe this process starts with the sash….”

He unwound her blue and green embroidered sash, folding it neatly and placing it on the chest. Taking the loose ends of linen that crisscrossed over her breasts, he lifted them over her shoulders and let them fall behind her.

“Turn, so I may unfasten your neckpiece.”

She did as he asked, twisting her hair up out of the way so he could unhook the heavy necklace. His fingers were cool against her skin. After the necklace had joined the sash, she felt him press kisses along the back of her neck, his hands stroking the underside of her raised arms.

“Shall I pin up your hair, Lady, for the pool?” His words hummed against her flesh.

“Yes, please. There is a small chest by the head of the sleeping couch. You’ll find a few ladies’ hairpins inside.”

She looked over her shoulder as he went to the couch, amused and curious as to what his reaction would be to the other contents of the small chest. Mandisa had told her before dinner that everything within had been cleaned and polished with fresh oil, each item neatly snugged in its place.

His smile told her he approved her selections as he looked back at her. “I find hairpins and more, Lady. Do you wish anything else from the chest?”

She looked down, as if she were a shy virgin again. “As I said, I trust your judgment, my steward.”

She heard the chest click shut.

“Another time, perhaps, if I find my own rod flagging and you still seek to be filled.” He was behind her again, his arms stealing around her waist. “Although I find it hard to imagine being in such a state, if I’m with you.”

Her lips parted in a soft gasp as her eyes closed. She lost herself in the imagining of him satiated and confident, working one of the ivory phalluses into her body as she lost herself to him.

Heat rushed through her loins at the thought, and she moved her hips back, feeling him hard against her buttocks. “I agree, my heart. Although the thought is sweet in its way, it’s sweeter still to think of receiving your own rod, again and again. From what I feel now, I can’t imagine needing anything else.”

He gathered her hair and began catching it up with ivory pins, moving deftly. “The Great Lady knows I will do all I can to serve her well.”

She turned to face him, her dark curls now twisted into loose coils under her diadem. “Finish undressing me then, Senenmut. Feeling you through layers of linen is becoming a cruel tease.”

He bent to kiss her lips as he untied the ends of the draped fabric that formed the body of her gown. “This is the last cruelty, then, you’ll have at my hands.”

He made quick work of unwinding the pleated length of cloth, his breath coming harder as he uncovered her breasts, then her belly, her delta, and finally her legs. She watched his eyes travel along her body, lingering here and there, an admiring smile on his face. Her nipples hardened under his gaze, and when she shifted her hips, she could tell the honey of her delta had begun to flow.

“I had thought to use sweet words of seduction tonight, God’s Wife, but I find only ‘beautiful’ and ‘beloved’ on my tongue.” He reached out to take the weight of one pale breast in his hand as she arched against his touch.

“I would have you put aside my titles tonight, beloved.” Her heart was melting as she covered the hand palming her breast with her own. “When I played in the gardens and halls here, the name I most often heard as mine was my milk-name, from my nurse. It reminds me of a time before duty and care ruled my days.”

He bent his head and took one pink nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, then released her with a groan. “What shall I call you then?” He stroked his hand down her body, from her breasts to her smooth belly and below, then up again.

She brought her hands to his shoulders, enjoying the feel of smooth, taut muscle under her hands.

“Mandisa missed her infant daughter terribly after she died, and was comforted by taking me to her breast. Propriety kept her from calling me Layla, although she would have liked to. Instead, she called me a nonsense name, close enough to ease her grief.

“In the privacy of my nursery, I was La’ra.” She felt an unfamiliar sensation in her belly as she spoke, as if a laughing spirit had passed through her.”It became very dear to me, over time.”

“And you would be La’ra for me, sweeting, when we have our own privacy?”

Hatshepsut watched his eyes, flashing blue in the firelight, and was surprised to see a hint of tears there.

“I would like that, beloved. You don’t find it silly?” She brushed her fingertips over the moisture under his lashes.

“La’ra,” he said again, head cocked as he looked into her eyes with an almost frightening intensity. ”Yes, I like the sound of that very much. I find it perfect for you…for us.”

He pressed his kilt-covered erection against her skin as he drew close to her ear. “When I flood you with my passion, then, ‘La’ra’ will be the name I cry out into the night.”

She shuddered against him. “I long to hear it like that.” Her hands moved to his waist, one hand dropping for a second to his stiffness, then returning. “I’m no body servant, my love, but I think I can do a passable job of removing your kilt.”

 

####################

 

Senenmut was entranced by the woman before him. Her berry-tipped breasts had been as full and responsive as he’d dreamed, rising to a pebbled point under his lips. Her delicate honey already glistened in the folds of her vulva, luscious and ripe as a late-season peach and scenting the air with her fragrance.

Her smile sweetened as she unwrapped his kilt from his hips and drew it from his body. He closed his eyes against the heady rush of her touch….

“Senenmut?” she asked quietly. “Has Nuru…given offence in some way?”

“Not at all, La’ra. Why—“ He realized with a groan that her eyes were focused on his lower belly, covered with thick black curls from a point below his navel down to his testicles and beyond, his cock jutting proudly from its nest. Embarrassed beyond belief, he reached for the kilt still in her hands as he turned away.

“I’ve been so captivated with thoughts of you these past days, I’m afraid I neglected to prepare properly for this night.” He felt himself wilting. “I could pleasure you in other ways, if you like, and call for Nuru in the morning.”

Shoulders slumping, he looked past the pavilion into the night. “I’m so sorry, La’ra. I did not intend for your first sight of me to be as though you had found yourself in a goat pen.”

He startled at her giggle, and again as her hand slid down his belly to his cock. “So you didn’t send Nuru away for being a poor body servant…tell me, then, how you come to be thus.” Slim fingers explored his body, twining through the curls and tugging gently. He felt himself harden again.

“Lady—La’ra, before coming to court, I spent a great deal of time at excavations, rough sites far away from skilled barbers.” He could feel a blush staining his cheeks. “When I came to the capitol, I considered properly grooming myself again, but….”

His voice trailed off. How could he tell her he’d been so taken with her, he’d lost the ability to consider bedding another woman? And she had been so far out of his reach, the thought that it would ever matter had soon faded from his mind.

“When a man is sure no one will harvest from his garden, he soon loses interest in whether the rows are straight and the hedges trimmed,” he finished weakly.

Her hands continued to roam over him, her palm against his cock one moment, his curls the next. “It’s…so _different_. Soft, but surrounding such a hard center.”

She closed her eyes and gave a soft hum. “Do you know I can feel your heartbeat here?” The soft hand continued exploring. “A foolish question, I think. If you’ve not taken another since coming to court, I imagine you know well the feel of your pulse here.”

He reached down to catch her questing hand in his. “Your touch takes me further than is wise, La’ra, unless speed is your intent.”

“No, I would not choose to end so soon, Steward.” She pulled her hand away, then cupped him gently. “So heavy and full, and their covering brushes my palm so sweetly.”

“I’ll send for Nuru and his razor in the morning, La’ra,” he whispered, debating the wisdom of submitting to his servant’s blade immediately, to salvage what was left of the night.

The look in her eyes was playful and adoring, and his heart lost some of its tightness.

“I think not, beloved…at least, not yet. I would try this experience, and see if your thatch feels as novel on my sex as it does against my hand.” Her soft giggle was music to his ears.

His voice came out a bit strangled. “I have always heard that Hatshepsut has a heart for exploration of the new.”

She put her arms around his shoulders, raking her nails lightly over his back as she pressed her body against him. His cock slid between her slickening thighs as if they were made to be sheathed together. She gave her hips a tentative grind against him and he felt her pelvis jerk. He pulled her closer.

“Something pleases you, La’ra?”

She twisted against him and hummed deep in her throat as she lay her head on his shoulder. “It’s like a thousand feathers, stroking over my lower lips and the pearl they shelter. Such a contrast to the marble column you wield between my thighs.” He felt her fingers dig deeper into his back. “I think you should tell Nuru to use his blade another day…if at all,” she whispered.

Senenmut kissed her brow, moving his lips over her eyelids, her cheeks, inhaling her scent as he flexed his hips just enough to keep her rocking against him. His cock wanted nothing more than for him to tumble her onto the sleeping couch, bringing her legs wide and open before surging into her.

His heart, though, wanted to stretch out their evening, look into her eyes, watch the moonlight play over her features as he brought her to completion again and again. Reluctantly, he pulled away.

“Isaia went to a great deal of trouble to freshen the pool, my heart.”

She laid her hand on his cheek. “And you would not want his efforts wasted, or our night ended too soon.”

“That would be my thoughts on the subject, yes.” He chuckled, a wave of relief washing over him. _Thank the Gods, he finally was able to laugh again._

“Pour us some of the pomegranate wine, then, and we’ll enjoy our cups in the pool.” She gave him a wicked look. “And I can see the effects of the water’s buoyancy on your attributes.”

Senenmut returned her look with an equally wicked look of his own as he lifted her breasts, delighting in their soft weight against his hands. ”And I can do the same, as well.”

His hands still warm from the heat of her breasts, he reached for the golden cups and the enameled flagon of wine. The faintest of movements caught his eye: the surface of the bathing pool rippled just enough to stir the placid surface. A few concentric rings spread out from center to edge, then quieted again, as if the scented water had twitched with impatience, waiting just for them.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Ten: A starry night, some privacy, and each other. It should have been simple...
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> 
>  
> 
> _"And all her face was honey to my mouth, And all her body pasture to mine eyes"_
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> 
>  
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> *******************

 

Senenmut poured the wine with a hand as steady as the surface of the pool, now that the odd ripples had stilled. An errant breeze, a trick of the night air, he mused.

She stood next to him, as poised and comfortable in her skin as if she were still arrayed in her elegant linen gown. They could have been a long-married couple on holiday, love burning bright within them after years of life together. A sharp shard of regret lanced through him and faded as quickly as it had come. They were here, in the now. It would suffice, and he would treasure every moment.

The musicians down in the shadows of the courtyard began a different melody, a slow insistent rhythm as old as life itself, rising and falling, circling in a climbing spiral of notes. He felt it in his blood as he handed her the golden goblet.

They drank their first mouthful of wine together, each holding their cup to the other’s lips. Hatshepsut sighed happily. “I will never taste pomegranate wine again without thinking of this night. Come, let us continue in the water.”

She turned and sauntered to the stone steps leading into the pool. He watched her hips sway as she walked. If she had not been royal-born, she could have been a dancer, he thought. He watched her body disappear under the water until she reached the bottom, the surface breaking, lapping at her breasts. She gave him a smile of pure pleasure.

“It’s lovely, Senenmut. Join me.” She gestured towards the table holding the tray of thick flagons of oil and honey. “Bring the tray, please.”

He did as she asked, then slowly entered the water, savoring the warmth the pool had gathered during the day’s sun. She stood before him, arms loose-limbed in the water, a few tendrils of hair escaping their coils. The scent of lotus blossoms rose from the flowers that had been dropped into the bath hours earlier.

“Do you like it?” Her lips were open in a playful smile.

“Very much. With the stars above and nothing but darkness around us, if not for our torches I would think we were part of Nuit herself, floating through the heavens.”

“A lover’s thoughts, indeed,” she teased.

His erection bobbed against her in the water, sending a jolt up his spine. His last reserve at being with the Lady of Two Lands burned away, and he took her in his arms with a roughness born of passion, holding her tightly and lifting her off her feet.

He silenced her surprised gasp with a soft kiss that quickly turned ravenous, opening her mouth under his. A quick flick of his tongue brought her response, as she gripped his neck and pressed her tongue between his lips. Her breath was sweet and wine-scented against his skin.

She moved her hands to his shoulders and pressed, bringing her legs up around his waist. Senenmut’s lips left hers to give her an encouraging smile,  delighted at her frank eagerness even as he steeled himself against taking her here, now, as they stood in the scented water.

“Sweet Isis, the heat of you,” he murmured against her temple. His lips played along her neck, sucking and nibbling at the delicate skin behind her ear. He slipped his fingers down to where her legs parted around him. Her skin was smooth as polished rose quartz under his touch, pliant and plump…he thought again of the peaches, ripe and bursting.

He stroked her inner thighs, his touch feathering over her skin until she pushed against him, seeking more. He held her still.

“Turn, beloved, and watch the stars. I would make them dance for you.”

Her jade eyes were dark as emeralds in the low light as she touched his cheek.

“There’s not many men I’d turn my back on, Steward. I pray you take that as a sign of my trust.” She unwrapped her legs from his waist and turned in the water as he leaned against the painted tile side, pulling her to him.

“You will never have cause to regret that trust, La’ra.”

His sturdy arms curved around her as she gave herself over to his support, her head tilted back against his shoulder. The warmth of her body was a luscious contrast to the cool caress of the water, and a slight shudder ran through him as her shoulder blades brushed his nipples. He kissed the back of her neck, breaking off with a hissing intake of breath as his length slid against her, from the sloping valley between her buttocks to her heated entrance and back again.

Blood pounded in his temples, the urge to plunge into her almost overwhelming.

Senenmut closed his eyes and rested his cheek against hers, reveling in the exhilarating sensations her body was giving him. The perfume from her hair mixed with the fragrance of the night flowers below and made his senses reel.

He palmed the fullness of her breasts, then stroked down her body, tracing her ribs, gliding over her taut stomach to her mound. The moonlight revealed her closed eyes, her slightly parted lips, curving into a blissful smile at his touch.

His erection twitched against her alabaster skin as he pressed against her open vulva, her pearl set deep in the slick folds. He could feel her pulse there, thrumming against his fingers like the heartbeat of a songbird as he played over her flesh, varying the pressure and speed of his touch until she was moving against him. Her hands gripped his arms hard when he slipped one finger, then two into her lush center, circling her pearl with his thumb.

“You’re driving me mad, Senenmut…my honey flows for you--I can feel its heat in the cool of the water,” she whimpered. She hesitantly brushed her fingers against his skillful hand. “Shall I show you how I strike the spark, bringing the final flame? It’s so near, and I die with the waiting.”

“Do you trust my judgment, beloved? I want more for you than you seek yourself.”

“I trust you, by Isis, but I—” She broke off, gasping and throwing her head back as he started again, setting a rhythm that had her gasping into the night air.

“Open your eyes, La’ra. Fall into the stars for me.”

Her eyes were open then and staring at the heavens, a soft keening coming from her throat. He could feel the backs of her thighs straining against him, her back arching against his chest.

Her body twisted in his hands as she strained to move against him to take her pleasure deeper, faster. Hatshepsut began to shake, mild tremors building to a crescendo as her nails dug into his arms. She jerked against him, crying out to the star-ridden blackness above them, finally going limp, her cheek against his shoulder.

As her movements quieted, he turned her towards him and gathered her up in his arms, letting the water rock their bodies together. Her beauty in this moment brought unexpected tears to his eyes. In this moment he didn’t care what all the graven cartouches in the kingdom gave as her names.

She was La’ra, and she was his.

She drew a deep breath, releasing it in a contented hum. “I won’t doubt you again, Steward. You piloted me through the dancing stars, as you promised.” She looked up at him, jade eyes twinkling. “But you’ve made me even greedier to feel you within me.”

The cooling water had lessened his erection, but her words brought him up again.

“Shall we leave the pool, then, beloved? I’ve has been aching for you for hours, and I would satisfy your greed and match it with my own.” Her hum of agreement was its own music, as sweet as the palace musicians.

He helped her out of the water and lifted her into his arms again, the guttering torches guiding them to the wide couch. A light breeze pebbled their still-wet skin, and then their heat washed over them, warming them in the softly scented night air.

They wrapped themselves in thick towels as they lounged on the couch together, drinking more wine and eating the fruit laid out for them. He grinned as she bit into the fattest, juiciest peach in the bowl, letting the sweet nectar drip down her chin and trickle onto her breast.

“Shall I slice your fruit for you, so you won’t need another bath so soon?”

She tilted her eyes up to him. “I imagine you can find a way to clean me without the pool.”

He took the peach from her hand and tipped her onto her back, lapping at every drop of juice until they were laughing between kisses again, rolling their bodies together with abandon. Finally, he found himself above her, surprised to see the stars reflected in her eyes as they welled with tears. She was biting her lip, as if in some distress.

“La’ra, love, what’s wrong?” He was kneeling between her legs, stroking her from ankle to thigh.

She looked away. “Senenmut, I’m no virgin, as you know.”

He gave her a puzzled look. He knew this well enough; she had been Great Wife to Thutmose II in his day, and had borne him a daughter. Everything he knew of her said that she was skilled in the erotic arts, and her responses told him she was born to sensuality.

“What would you tell me, sweeting? Something troubles you, and I’d not go further until your heart is calm.”

“It’s more melancholy than you deserve tonight, I think.” She reached up and smoothed the hair over his brow.

“I deserve your truth, beloved.” He turned and stretched on his side, next to her, and began stroking the long hair that had fallen from its pins.

She drew a deep breath. “You put me in mind of certain dreams….”

 

 

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She was furious with her traitorous mind. As soon as his rugged angular face. with those soft full lips, had bent over her, and those deep blue eyes were trained on hers, the dreams flowed into her mind like the Great Flood. The first trickles of love that had been building since the day they met were developing into foaming cataracts, ready to wash her over a high rocky cliff.

The power of her feelings for him shook her to her soul. After he had brought her to bliss in the pool, making her soar into the stars, she realized the truth: if they went further, she would be bound to him forever. It was so tempting…even now, as she frustrated his need, she felt his loving regard in his look, his touch.

Lovemaking had never felt so dangerous.

“I dreamed of you, I think, before I ever met you. I dreamed of a blue-eyed lover…no, more than a lover. A man to be with me, through every trial and joy. Someone who would love me long past my journey to the land of the dead, and I, him.”

He ran his thumb over her lips, soothing her. “And you have him, in me, La’ra. Does this not lighten your heart?”

She felt tears well up again. “I will cause you pain, Senenmut. I see you standing at my tomb, your heart breaking. The act of love has never been so fraught with import before…and it frightens me.”

“Is that what you speak of? That you are inexperienced in lovemaking being so…heart-felt?”

She nodded miserably. His quick guess spoke of his ability to see her thoughts as fast as she formed them, which shook her all the more.

“In my time, my husband joined with me until my daughter formed in my womb. His taste for me was no greater than mine for him, so I learned a courtesan’s tricks to ready him...to ready us both.”

She looked at the table with the untouched flagons of honey and oil. “It became habit, I suppose, to use honey to hide unwelcome tastes, and to use oil to prepare myself when I felt my body’s reluctance.”

The sympathy in his eyes was a torment to her heart. He looked as though he would give all that he had to take away her bitter memories.

“Later, after his death, I took lovers as it suited my wishes, for a night, or a week. Once, even for a season.” She waited for a look of judgment, but there was nothing save kindness there.

“And did that ease you?”

Hatshepsut twisted her lips in a bitter smile. “For a while. I am who I am, though, and Pharaoh’s favor is a strong currency. Ultimately, I realized my ivory dildos would ease me almost as well, and I’d not need to watch for intrigue and political machinations from them.”

It was Senenmut’s turn to regard her with somber eyes. “I wish I’d been with you from the start, La’ra. Before Thutmose, before everything that brought you such sadness.”

She began to relax in his arms, molding herself to him. “In some ways, it feels as though you have. The man of my dreams, made flesh.”

Again.

She blinked at the stray thought that whispered in her mind.

Hatshepsut tucked her head under his chin, suddenly shy. His strong heartbeat reverberated against the hand she’d laid on his chest, lulling her fears.

His tone was soft. “So when you speak of virginity, you mean to say your body is well-accustomed to physical pleasure, but your heart...”

“My heart has never been fully opened by a man’s words, or touch. And I would not have you couple with me without you knowing that truth.”

His hand was warm on her skin where he touched her over her heart. He shifted as he lay next to her, leaning to bring his lips down to kiss her there as well.

“I would enter your heart with all my love and trust, then, as I enter your body. And if that binds us together for all time…I can think of nothing I’d like better.”

Joy rose within her, permeating every fiber of her being. The melancholy moment was burned away by the look in his eyes, and she felt cool and untroubled, all the parts of her spirit in perfect balance. His gaze held the light and dark of every night sky she’d ever seen. The heat built again, rolling through her, softening her limbs until she was pliable as molten wax waiting for the press of a signet ring—his mark, signifying validity of what had grown between them.

The act of taking that which is hard and pressing it into that which is soft and yielding…that act has always had the power to change lives, for good or ill.

It could only be good, with him. She knew this as well as she knew her name.

This time, when he rose over her, she opened her thighs to him with hopeful abandon. She could feel her heart opening as well, welcoming him there as her delta welcomed his marble-hard thickness. His girth made her gasp as he covered her lips and throat with kisses. She stilled him with a hand on his hip.

“A second, beloved, to become used to this.”

He gave her a languid smile full of love. “Take what you need, dearest one. To be sheathed within your heat, to feel you like this…it’s no hardship to wait a bit.”

Her hips rocked against his, tentatively at first, then harder, drawing him deep. His flexing movements answered her own, his curls feathering against her skin, igniting sparks of rich delight. His blue eyes remained fixed on hers as he slipped a hand between them and began circling her pearl with a light, rhythmic touch.

Heart quickening, she recognized the sensation of flying towards completion again. She moved against his hand, holding his shoulders tightly as he stroked against her, within her.

“Now, take me fully, Architect.” Her legs captured his muscular thighs as she thrust against him.

“I would take you all the way, La’ra,” he gasped, sweat beginning to bead on his skin as he worked his hips with hers. “All the way to the end.”

His thrusts were measured and sure as she moved in a rhythm of her own under him, finally arching in release and crying out against his shoulder. He groaned into the hollow of her throat as he shuddered and spilled himself within her clenching sex, roaring into the night as he finished.

“Yes, my love—by the gods, yes,” she cried.

Their words seemed to ring through the dark night sky to the stars, from the beginning of time to the land of the dead.

All the way to the end.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part Eleven: While the new lovers enjoy each other, intrigue swirls in unseen corners. All good things must come to an end...until next time.
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> _"Be unwearied, unceasing, alive you and your own true love"_
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> ****************

The night air was heavy with scent, the fragrance of night-blooming jasmine mixing with the smoke of the courtyard torches and the tang of the Great River from beyond the palace walls. The two old ones sat together on the carved garden bench, at a distance from the roof’s pavilion to afford the illusion of privacy, yet near enough so that either might hear a command from their charges. Dips and curves had been carved into the wood to provide perfect support for aging bones, and the wine washed away any lingering aches, as did the tales they spun from their youth.

“The larks are in full throat, it would seem, Mandisa. They’ve sung their song at least three times this night.” Isaia’s eyes twinkled in the torchlight.

“So you say, Isaia, but the roar of your new master drowns out her song as do the bulls in the field overtake the songbird’s hymn.”

“He’s a powerful figure, indeed. And you say he’s not of noble birth? His carriage and demeanor say otherwise, save for the lack of an overweening love of self.”

The old nurse batted at his shoulder. “Mind your words, lest they be taken for criticism of the men of Pharaoh’s dynasty.”

He shrugged. “I mean no disrespect to my former master, Pharaoh’s honored father, may his ka rest easy.”

Mandisa pulled her shawl snuggly around her shoulders. “And you would not speak of his son, or his grandson?”

“I would not, nor of any other unpleasant subject, dear Mandisa.” He patted her gnarled hand, resting on the bench between them. “I would speak of the seasons in front of the two above us, and of the hopes they will be filled with as much joy as they are tonight.”

A trill of laughter came from the rooftop, high and musical, followed by a deeper voice and a loud splash. Giggles and chuckles drifted down, growing softer as the seconds passed.

“I tell you this, Isaia…hearing my lady this night eases my mind as I look towards the land of the dead.”

The old man frowned. “Have you reason to think on your journey, dear one? I see no affliction greater than one expects in our years.”

Mandisa looked around the dark courtyard, glancing up at the roofline on the other side of the palace. She lowered her voice to a quiet whisper. “I am well enough, my only affliction being that of serving the Lady while her enemies plot against her. “

“Have a care, then, old friend,” he said. “Such afflictions have proved mortal before, and will again, as that is the way of our world.”

She sighed heavily. “It’s the worry that stabs the deepest. I thank the gods that she has Senenmut at her side throughout her days. Thinking on him being at her side through her nights brings me an ease I’ve not known in years.”

Snatches of conversation filtered down from the rooftop, the words indistinct but the tone soothing and languid, punctuated by light laughter here and there.

The old man lowered his voice as well. “They seem well-suited to each other. I’ve not seen lovers mix passion and respect so well since her father and the lady Sitamun were alive, and enjoying his time away from royal duties.”

“It’s a hard world, Isaia, that they can love but cannot marry for politics’ sake. In another time, another life, they would have been a formidable foundation of a new dynasty.”

A rough, uncultured voice came from the shadows as a figure stepped out from a columned archway. “Do you mean, old woman, to express dissatisfaction with the current dynasty? Would you push the rightful occupant of the throne even further away?”

Mandisa’s heart thudded in her chest even as she recognized the dark form approaching them.

“Nuru, wicked boy! What treasonous words are these?” She made room on the bench and motioned for him to sit. A wave of sour beer assaulted her nostrils. “By the gods, you reek of barley beer. What have you been up to?”

Nuru pulled a beer-soaked rag from underneath his snug-fitting copper collar and dropped it to the ground. “Men let their tongues wag more freely if they think their listener is in his cups, and they take what they hear as the truth that comes with drink.” His voice had returned to its usual courtly tone.

The old butler leaned forward. “You’ve been at the tavern in town, I’m thinking. What do you hear, young one?”

“Senenmut’s name is on every tongue, of course, as the local priests and politicians could recite the recorded deed by heart already, and know his holdings better than he does himself.”

“Such has always been the habit of self-serving men. It’s known that he’s in residence, then?” Mandisa asked.

“It is. There is much speculation as to his companion, though. I let it slip that he is so favored by Pharaoh that she allows him to borrow the royal yacht as he likes.” She could see her grandson’s grin in the moonlight. “I dropped a hint or two that he seeks to win the heart of a wealthy noblewoman. As I left, I heard a satisfying amount of confusion as to who his guest might be.”

“To what purpose, Nuru?” The old woman’s brow furrowed. “Many know that it is Hatshepsut who accompanies him.”

“But many do not, grandmother. And you know I never pass up a chance at misdirection in these matters when it presents itself,” Nuru rejoined. “But that’s not the main import of the evening’s gleanings. One of the mayor’s household was there, and agreeable to having cups of beer bought for him.”

Isaia snorted. “I know the fool you mean, I believe. The mayor trusts him overmuch.”

Nuru rose and crossed the tiles to fetch wine and three cups from the serving table. Mandisa maintained her patience, smiling as she felt her old friend quivering with curiosity beside her. Nuru’s casual attitude told her there was no immediate worry looming, no danger this night, however serious his information might be.

He returned with half-full cups of date wine and sat again.

“The mayor’s man gave me reason to think that the public granaries are only half the measure they should be, his master funneling off a handsome portion of grain tax to his own estate’s granaries.”

Her old friend’s sudden intake of breath told her his mind went to the same place as hers. Stealing grain paid as taxes by the local citizens was tantamount to stealing from Pharaoh herself.

“The mayor courts hanging, then,” she murmured.

“At the least. What will worry Pharaoh more, I fear, is that the tally of the public granaries cannot be trusted in this town…and if there is no faith in the accounting of one granary, what faith will there be in the next, and the next after that?” He took a deep drink of wine, wiping his mouth as he finished.

“By the feather of Ma’at, Nuru...you mean to cast doubt on Pharaoh’s ability to feed her people in times of need?” Her stomach clenched as she remembered her charge’s tutor reading from The Admonitions of Ipuwer. The descriptions of thousands dying from drought and starvation, the riots and destruction of the royal family, had haunted Hatshepsut’s dreams for weeks, no matter how many times Mandisa assured her that those evil days were centuries in the past.

“I would not be so bold as to doubt Pharaoh’s ability in any field, grandmother. But many a necessary rumor is passed between servant and mistress in the quiet hours before taking the night’s rest or beginning the day’s duties.” Nuru drained his cup.

“And if such a servant were to whisper a solution, perhaps that the Great Steward take on an accounting of the kingdom’s stores against the taxmen’s reports…would that not take the sting out of the rumor?” he continued.

“You have become quite the taskmaster, grandson.”

He put a gentle arm around her. “Egypt is the taskmaster of us all, grandmother. Is that not what you have taught me since my birth? Is that not what you have taught, in your own way, to the Lady of the Two Lands, since she nursed at your breast?”

She felt Isaia’s hand cover her own. “The boy speaks the truth, old friend. Such was also the lesson her father taught her when she was still a child, scampering up trees and teasing me for another candied sweet.”

“I know where my duty lies well enough.” She glanced up at the rooftop where the subjects of their hushed conversation seemed to rest in sated slumber. “We will give them these couple of days, untroubled by such matters as they discover the joys of one another.”

She sighed again. She had always hated reporting treachery to Hatshepsut, seeing her eyes turn cold and stony as she began planning her answer to yet another threat.

“The morning we depart for the capitol, I think. It will give them a few hours’ time to consider what to do without interruption. I will tell her, begging her forgiveness for not speaking sooner.”

“I will do the same as I ready Senenmut that morning,” Nuru said, giving her shoulder a light squeeze.

“For my part, I will prepare an accounting of the estate’s granaries and stores, and identify the most trustworthy local scribes to assist Count Senenmut in his tasks,” Isaia offered.

“I will take my leave then, old ones, and seek my pallet.” Nuru looked up at the fluttering awning on the rooftop above them. “It seems our master and mistress sleep under the stars tonight, snug in their pavilion. Thanks be to Isis that they have been given each other, and this time together.”

He quietly made his way around the flower beds and fountain, disappearing into the darkness of the sleeping chamber’s wing.

“I’m sorry we’ve brought unfortunate news to your household, Isaia.” Mandisa rested her head on the butler’s thin shoulder.

“No worries, dear one. I confess the taste of political intrigue brings to mind my younger days. It is a welcome thing, to feel useful again to the throne.” He dropped a kiss onto her brow.

“Isaia…I would ask a favor of you, to honor those younger days you speak of.” She suddenly felt as shy as she had all those years ago, when she had first seen the handsome butler from under her lowered lashes.

“I pray the favor you speak of is to share my couch with you once again.” His dark brown eyes were as warm and kind as they had ever been.

“Your thoughts travel with mine, then.” She smiled, the network of wrinkles on her cheeks creasing.

The old man stood and extended his hand. A trick of the moonlight erased the liver spots and prominent veins, and it was the hand he’d extended so long ago, on the night he planted the seed that would give her Nuru’s mother. 

“Mandisa, I can only give you the memory of past love, I fear, but it’s yours if you would take it.”

She slowly got to her feet, swaying against him for a moment in the lotus-scented night air. 

“Dear Isaia, I can think of nothing I would enjoy more, to dream beside you this night while knowing my lady is creating fresh dreams of her own.”

The old lovers walked together to the sleeping quarters, ready to whisper memories of bygone days as they drifted into slumber.

 

***************************

 

“Ra begins his journey, my love.”

Senenmut stroked Hatshepsut’s cheek as the sky began to lighten in the east. He watched as her lips curved up in a sleepy smile, eyes closed against the dawning day. She moved closer against his chest and tugged his arm tighter around her shoulder.

“And what if I don’t wish to return to my duties, Count Senenmut? Another day, I think, lying abed with you, sounds much more to my tastes than returning to court and taking up my yoke again. My work has done without me for two days…surely it can manage for one more.”

“Lazy wench,” he growled as he nipped at her ear lobe. “Off your couch and hew to your tasks, or I’ll dock you a week’s pay and feed you naught but stale bread and brackish water.” He punctuated his threats with tickles along her ribs until she rolled away from him, breathless with giggling.

“Enough! Yes, taskmaster! I hear and obey,” she said, cupping his cheek in her hand. He turned his head to kiss her palm, delighting in the playfulness in her voice.

“I would stay here for another week, another month, if it were up to me, Lady.”

“But it’s not, is it? Nor up to me.” Her voice turned solemn. “Egypt plans our days. I am grateful she gave us this respite, and I shouldn’t be greedy for more.”

“We still have the day, La’ra. A leisurely breakfast, another stroll through the estate garden, perhaps, before we set sail. And maybe a quick…rest, beneath the pavilion, while the servants pack our travel trunks?” he added hopefully, his dark blue eyes twinkling.

“Hmm…” she hummed, stretching like a temple cat in the sun. “You paint a lovely picture of easing back into our duties.”

He was leaning in to kiss her when he heard the scrape of leather sandals on the steps, then a discreet cough. Sighing, he pulled the linen sheet up over his beloved’s dove-soft breasts. “Our true taskmasters come,” he whispered.

Hatshepsut rose on her elbow. “You may approach,” she called.

Nuru came into view as he climbed the stone steps, a heavy brass tray balanced on one hand, a pitcher in the other.

“I bring a light start to the day, Lady, some fresh melon and minted water to awaken you while the cook prepares breakfast.” He set the tray down on a folding stand by the couch, laying out thick napkins next to the plates holding red, orange and green slices of different types of melon, arranged like the spokes of a wheel. He poured the cold water, flavored with sprigs of mint, into a pair of carved goblets.

“Count Senenmut, I have hot water and a sharpened blade ready for your beard, and Your Majesty, your maidservant awaits to comb and dress your hair, at your convenience.”

Senenmut cocked an eyebrow at his lover. “Do you get the feeling, Lady, that we are being herded as firmly as a couple of errant sheep?”

Nuru’s face was impassive save for a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Our shepherds at times have a greater sense of duty that do we, my love.” She sighed. “That is probably for the best.

“Hand me my robe, Nuru, and we will begin our day.”

“Your robe, my lady?” He glanced at the end of the couch, then the empty folding chair nearby.

She blushed as it became clear she couldn’t recall where it had fallen the evening before. Finally, the expressionless servant found the garment crumpled on the far side of the bathing pool. Shaking out the wrinkles, he brought it to their bedside and held it out, eyes averted as she rose and slipped her arms into the waiting sleeves. 

“We’ll be down shortly, Nuru. Let the kitchen know,” Senenmut said. He would have been content to gaze at the graceful outline of Hatshepsut’s body against the lightening blue sky until it was long past morning, but the tasks of the day began clamoring for his attention.

“My lord, a word, as soon as is practical?” Nuru looked uneasy, a sight that sounded a faint alarm in Senenmut’s head. He stood and allowed his servant to wrap his dressing-kilt around his waist.

“Is there a problem, Nuru?”

The servant glanced at Hatshepsut, seated on the other side of the sleeping couch and beginning to nibble at a slice of melon.

“A matter for Senenmut, the estate owner to hear, and to decide on a course of action for Senenmut, Steward to God’s Wife, to take,” he murmured.

“Is there some risk to Pharaoh?” Senenmut’s hand was hard on the younger man’s wrist.

“No direct risk, my lord, and her maidservant would be grateful for her charge having a peaceful breakfast before she disrupts the Lady’s peace with the same unwelcome news.”

Senenmut sighed heavily. He would honor the old woman’s wishes to give his love another carefree hour before the burden of statecraft fell on her shoulders once more.

 

**************

The plates of egg and flaked fish had been cleared away as soon as the final bite had been eaten The last grape was still sweet on Hatshepsut’s tongue when Mandisa approached the table to beckon her to the dressing table.

“The winter palace servants feel they’ve been on holiday, my lady. They’ve barely had to turn their hands during your stay.” The old woman began working a wooden comb through the tangles in Hatshepsut’s hair.

“Count Senenmut has been diligent in seeing to my needs, and I to his, Old Mother,” she teased.

“Ah, yes, my lady, so I am aware, and it gladdens my heart. You must make time to be together thus as often as you can.” She paused to work out a stubborn knot.

Hatshepsut’s brow furrowed. “I’m no shopkeeper, Mandisa, free to close my doors at a whim. I’ll have three days’ worth of work waiting for me at court for every day I enjoyed my leisure here. You know this as well as I.”

The old woman picked up fine embroidery thread, colored scarlet and gold, and began weaving them into narrow braids of dark hair. “I know that life is short, and it flies by faster than we realize, my lady.” She was silent for a while, giving Hatshepsut time to consider her words.

Finally, she spoke again. “You came quickly to love your architect’s mind and heart, it seems, as I saw your feelings bloom within days of meeting him.”

“I’ll not argue, Old Mother. Your words are true, as I felt I knew him…loved him, far sooner than I would have thought possible.” She watched her old nurse work in the polished brass mirror, realizing she already wished he was near her again.

“And now your body and your senses inform your decision. I’ve never known you to be so happy with a man’s lovemaking as you seem to be with his.”

Hatshepsut’s jaw tightened. “I would not call my previous beddings ‘love-making.’ They were exercises that served their purpose, in one fashion or another.”

“He is that skilled, then, to surpass all others?” The servant’s tone had turned light.

“It’s not the skill of practice,” Hatshepsut said thoughtfully. “Rather skill born of natural talent and attention, his senses focused on the slightest detail, the smallest signs.”

Mandisa worked her fingers through the long hair, arranging row after row of colorful braids in a neat fall.

“I would expect as much, Lady. His life has been one of careful maneuvering of powerful forces, his hands guiding that which could kill dozens if he is careless or hurried, his eyes seeking tiny fault lines that could shatter a wall if ignored.”

She moved in front of her charge and met Hatshepsut’s jade-green eyes. “And he loves you beyond reason, which is the greatest guide of all.”

“All that you say is true, and more, Old One. There are things we cannot do, for the sake of politics…but I intend to have him at my side, the two of us standing together.”

She took her old nurse’s hands. “Pray to the Gods that we may have this, Old Mother. That we will have years of this. There is a constant nagging sorrow in my heart that we will have too little time, as you say, and it makes me anxious for our future.”

“With my dying breath, my beloved La’ra, I will pray thus, and all the days until then.” She squeezed Hatshepsut’s hands with surprising strength.

“Now, my lady, we must talk of rumors and suspicions, and set love aside for a while.”

And so it starts, Hatshepsut thought, as Mandisa tied off the last braid and began an account of Nuru’s findings.

 

*******************

 

The sail back to the city was long and drowsy, as if the Nile itself wanted to delay their return to the work that waited for them. The royal scribe had been sent to the front of the ship with rolls of newly inked scrolls describing new accounting policies and court monitoring of municipal stores. The last carefully printed decree appointed Senenmut to the position of Overseer of the Treasury, Granary, Fields, and Cattle of Amun.

Hatshepsut reclined on the chaise lounge under the awning that shaded them from the sun and the eyes of others, resting her head on Senenmut’s broad shoulder. Watching the grey-green ripples of the ship’s wake was lulling her to sleep. Every bone in her body felt like softened wax, supple and pliant. The black wings of her kohl-darkened brows drew together as she counted off the hours until she would have to be rigid, controlled Pharaoh again. Perhaps three or four more, and then their holiday would be truly over.

She watched Senenmut’s bare chest rise and fall below his broad collar. He had started to softly snore, a pile of reference scrolls Isaia had produced from the palace library on the deck beside him. 

She smiled ruefully. She had hoped they would have taken their leisure in the library, choosing epic love poems and writings on the erotic arts. Instead, he had asked for as many years’ worth of tallies and accounts of state holdings as the old butler could find. His new title had not yet received the royal seal, but her steward had already taken up the tasks of the office.

Tongues would wag viciously upon their return, she knew. She could hear the salacious gossip already…speculations on what sorcery the common-born favorite had employed to bind Pharaoh even tighter, to bewitch her into giving him even more power.

And Thutmose’s followers would doubtless pour poisoned gossip into the ears of anyone who would listen, that Hatshepsut was tossing prudent judgment aside for the sake of her heart. Such had been his followers’ song since she began keeping Senenmut more and more at her side. Once the economic concerns were fully addressed, she would have to turn her attention back to the political arena and the followers of the young prince, the ones who called her “Regent” and “Pharaoh” in public, and whispered “Hatshepsut the Usurper” behind closed doors.

She ran her fingers over Senenmut’s craggy cheek, wishing again that they could slip away from their burdens for good, and spend their days discovering new delights in each other. His eyes slowly opened and the easy, sweet smile she loved spread over his face.

“So serious, beloved? Take the scribe’s cue and rest from statecraft for a while. It will be waiting for you to take up again soon enough.”

“These few days have spoiled me, Steward. I imagine us in another life past this one, where we have responsibility only to each other, and the people take care of their own problems.”

He kissed the furrow between her brows. “There is no such place, that would tempt you to become uncaring about your people, Lady.”

She shifted in his arms. “Perhaps when we’re both in the land of the dead, we can think only of each other and let the world take care of itself.”

His sparkling blue eyes lost their light and became flat. “Do not speak so casually of that time, La’ra. I get the sense, sometimes, of what it would feel like, to remain in the land of the living while you journey before me. It is a bleak and empty feeling, and I’d not see that come to pass for many seasons.”

“Nor I,” she reassured him, as she wiggled down to rest her head on his chest. “Still, when the time comes, I know it will take some of the sting out, to know we’ll be together…and free.”

Her voice softened as her breathing came into sync with his, and they drifted into a light slumber, lulled by the diffused light and the gentle rocking of the waves against the ship’s teak hull.

 

****************

 

“Were you ready to come back?” The pale lavender ka shimmered in the air.

“I could’ve stayed longer, but I think some of…us, our feelings, were bleeding through.” The gray ka pulsed with a slow, steady rhythm.

“His fears of her dying first?”

“Yeah. Going through that once was enough. Still hurts to think about losing you.”

The diaphanous shapes swirled together. “Bill, it’s reality…people die. We did…and they will, too.”

The gray form pulled away from the lavender. “It would have been nice for their time together to last a little longer, that’s all.”

Laura’s hum hadn’t changed a bit. “It was wonderful while it lasted, though, wasn’t it? To be so physical and healthy…it was almost addictive, all those feelings.”

The forms merged at the edges.

“It was great,” Bill agreed. “On one level, he was seeing her, and on another level, I was seeing you, clear as when we were alive. It was…” 

“It was better than when we were on the Shore?” she said quietly.

The shape contracted, then expanded again. “Towards the last, yeah.”

“So, you’re still good with all this?” Her edges reached out to his.

“I’m not complaining, Laura. I love being with you like that. Having the chance to do things I’d only thought about back then, that we never had time to do, before—“

The shapes pressed together. “But now we have. And we can do it whenever we like.”

“I missed this, though. Missed you being Laura Roslin. I missed being me.”

“”I missed you, too, Bill. I’m ready to just be us again. And they need time to be themselves, without any secret passengers.”

“And it sounds like things are going to be…not a lot of fun for a while," he noted.

Laura’s ka shimmered in time to what her giggles would have sounded like if she were corporeal. “Oh, are we boring you, Admiral?”

“One lifetime of politics wasn’t enough for you?” he countered.

“Oh, Gods, it certainly was. Good thing she was born to it. That makes it a little easier.”

The forms looked down on the two lovers sleeping below them, Senenmut curling a protective arm around Hatshepsut as she covered his hand with hers.

“She’s giving him enough power so he can be a real partner to her,” Bill observed. “That should lighten her load some.”

“And she’s ready to trust his advice on military and political matters, I think.”

“So, are you ready to explore the rest of Earth?”

Pinks and reds flowed together within her lavender ka.

“For a while. We’ll come back, though, right?”

The grey form flashed with blue sparks. “Next time they have some quality time together, we’ll come back.”

“You think we’ll know when that happens?”

The two forms merged into a silvery violet mist.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we’ll feel it when the time comes.”

“Lead the way, Admiral.”

“After you, Madam President.”

The lovers on the water slept on, as the shimmery lights winked out of sight.


End file.
